Breaking Destiny
by DangerMouse
Summary: At the end of 4th year, Harry and Co. attacked the Slytherins on the train as they were heading home. Too bad they didn't know the side effects of mixing curses! This Chapter: Torture, blood, trolls, and Martinique! Rating went up to 'R.' H/D
1. Prologue

Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Prologue

  


The water in the lake didn't seem too deep from the shore. Warm and inviting, the moon reflecting off the glass-like surface, Draco felt compelled to enter the body of water, drawn to it by a force he couldn't define. Now he stood in the center of the lake, still and silent, water splashing softly against his knees. The stars in the sky shined brightly, every constellation glowing with startling intensity, so brilliant, the young wizard-in-training found himself unable to keep his eyes open. Instead, he closed them, his face tilted up towards the sky, his arms crossed delicately over his chest, breathing in the crisp, clean air, his long, platinum hair whipping about in the warm breeze that blew across his face. 

It was glorious. 

The odd feeling of a presence behind him startled the young man out of his revelry. He turned abruptly, the sounds of his movements cutting through the night like a knife, nature seeming to groan angrily at the intrusion. Draco looked to the shore, his blood pumping with adrenaline, his mind filled sense of fear he didn't understand. 

A lone figure, all too familiar, stood on the banks of the lake, glittering emerald green eyes watching him from underneath a shock of messy brown hair that desperately needed a trim. 

"Potter!" Draco heard himself calling, "What are you doing here? What do you want?" Harry seemed to neither hear nor acknowledge the questions, simply continuing to watch the smaller boy with the same odd expression, a curious mixture of sadness and pity. Draco found himself getting irrationally angry with the other boy. 

"Answer me, dammit!" Draco shouted, then gasped suddenly as he felt himself being yanked downward, deeper into the lake. The water got unbelievable cold and dark, churning around him, the water lapping around his chest as a large number of cold hands clung to his legs and waist, trying to pull him ever deeper. Draco began to struggle against his assailants, the world darkening around him as the light of the stars and moon was rapidly choked out of the sky by the sudden appearance of dark, ominous clouds. 

Looking down, Draco saw many cloaked and hooded figures, their numbers ever increasing the more he fought back, holding on to him, trying to pull him under. He moved his arms rapidly, trying to keep his head above water, getting mouthfuls with every swell of the waves around him. He coughed and choked, the dark water bitter and foul, stagnant in its filth, dripping into his lungs and stinging his eyes. Draco locked his vision on Harry, still standing on the shore some distance away, the same expression on his face. 

"Help me!" Draco sputtered, his head dipping below the surface for a few seconds before he managed to pull himself up enough to take a gasp of a breath. "Harry, please! Help me!!" 

The taller boy simply shook his head slightly, his expression growing even sadder, the sorrow-filled green eyes last thing Draco saw before the Death Eater's dragged him below the surface of the lake with one, last, firm pull. His body frozen with cold, a hundred skeletal hands clinging to his body, Draco gasped, the black water pouring down his throat, drowning him. 

Draco sat up with a start, his silken green sheets twisted around his sweat-covered body, his lungs drawing up deep draughts of life saving air. The young Slytherin felt his whole body shaking uncontrollably as he curled up into a fetal position on his bed, safe in the Slytherin Dormitories, two renegade tears streaking down his cheeks unbidden. 

Across the castle, surrounded in his maroon colored cocoon of sheets, another boy sat up just as suddenly. Harry put a hand to his forehead, his bright green eyes wide with shock and pain. The Boy Who Lived scrubbed angrily at the aching scar tissue, remembering his horrible nightmare with a bone-deep shudder. 

Draco, beautiful as a fae, seemingly floating in the center of the lake. 

Draco, his eyes filled with fear and terror as he was dragged down into the dark water surrounding him. 

Draco, begging him for help as Harry found himself helplessly trapped on the shore, unable to move. 

Draco, sinking below the surface after one final heroic struggle, but finally unable to fight any longer. 

Draco, drowning. 

"Draco..." Harry whispered softly into the night around him. 

But no one heard. 

To be continued...

A/N: *gurgle* 


	2. Chapter One

Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter I

  


"Hey, uh, Draco, you okay?" 

Draco stopped in mid-step on the stairs leading out of the Slytherin Dungeon and turned to glare at Gregory behind him. 

"The next person who asks me that is going to be spending the rest of the day in a terrarium," he snapped. Greg blinked, his face twisting into a confused expression. "As a newt," Draco clarified. 

"Oh," Greg replied, taking a step back. "Sorry." 

Draco sighed, shaking his head as he resumed his ascent. It was still fairly early in the morning for many people to get up, but Draco slept very little. Greg and Vince would usually get up when he did, simply out of habit. It was nice getting to the Great Hall for breakfast before everybody else, when it was still quiet. With so many young people in one place, "quiet" was a rare commodity indeed. 

And his headache needed quiet. 

As Draco had hoped, the Great Hall was empty, save Professor Flitwick, another early riser. The little man gave them a quick nod, which Draco pointedly ignored. Instead, he went to his usual seat at the Slytherin table, Vincent and Greg taking their places across from him. Draco stared at his plate as it magically filled itself with all of his favorite breakfast foods. Rather than eating, he poked at it with his fork, his stomach aching with nausea. 

The dreams were definitely getting worse. For the past few months, he'd been having his "suffocating dreams." Drowning in the lake, having a pillow held over his face by a hooded man, standing in a wooded glade, only to be accosted by the same group of men and strung up in a tree, and so on and so forth. Draco thought one should get used to such things after a time, but each dream seemed more terrifying than the last. And they always started off so nice... 

Draco frowned, dropping his fork on the table, watching as the other students made their way in for breakfast. The Slytherin table was parallel to the far east wall of the Great Hall and Draco always sat in such a way that he could see everything going on around him. He felt safer that way. 

His eyes were inexplicably drawn to the Gryffindor table on the far west side of the hall (separated for obvious reasons), where the infamous Trio had taken their seats, Potter facing away from him as usual. 

Potter. 

Why was it always Potter? 

Draco frowned again. He had never been in his dreams before. Everything else about the dream he understood, but Potter? What did he have to do with anything? Standing there, his face filled with pity, watching him drown, not even trying to help - that made everything almost worse. 

As if by fate, The Boy Who Lived suddenly turned around his seat, looking straight at Draco. The smaller boy started in shock, before finding himself looking away, turning instead to talk to Pansy. 

_Damn him_, Draco thought angrily. _Damn him._

* * * * * * 

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked him, sounding concerned. Harry sighed, dragging his eyes away from the Slytherin table and facing his friends. He rubbed a hand against his forehead, his scar still aching dully. He felt nauseous. 

"I don't know," Harry confessed, pushing his plate away. "Weird dreams, I guess." 

"More dreams about You-Know-Who?" Ron asked worriedly, resting both elbows on the table. Harry shook his head. 

"Nothing like that. It was..." Harry trailed off, not sure how much he wanted to reveal to his friends. "Just weird," he concluded, ignoring Hermione's skeptical look. "Too much treacle last night, or something." 

"You know you can always talk to us if something is bothering you, Harry," Hermione told him, giving him a very pointed look. Harry nodded, giving his friends a small smile. Ron and Seamus started talking to him about the upcoming Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Harry made the appropriate noises and the appropriate times, but his thoughts were drifting away. 

Draco. 

Harry fought the urge to turn around and look at the blond Slytherin behind him. He looked so different in the dream, so calm and beautiful. Harry wondered if his hair was really that long. Draco kept his hair tied back in a tight bun at the base of his neck since he had started growing it out - not that Harry noticed such things about the Slytherin in question, no sir. 

Draco looked so strange, like someone bleached all of the color out of him. His eyes a sparkling silver and the hair to match were emphasized by the stark contrast of the heavy, black robes he often wore. Harry couldn't understand how Draco managed to stay pale as death, regardless of the hours and hours Harry knew the Slytherin spent outside with his Quidditch team. Still, on Draco, the paleness didn't make him look sickly, rather, he almost glowed, a quiet sort of radiance. 

Radiance. Harry almost groaned, resisting the urge bang his head on the table. It was that lousy dream, distorting his perception of the little bastard. Draco wasn't radiant. He was a jerk and a spoiled brat. It didn't matter at all that he was attractive and beautiful and -- 

"Harry? Harry!" Harry blinked rapidly, turning around to face Ron who had obviously been trying to get his attention for some time. Wait - when did he turn away from Ron? 

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ron asked him, concern quickly turning to irritation. Harry felt a blush rising on his face before he could stop it. 

"Nothing's wrong," he told the growing number of Gryffindor eyes looking at him. He glared at the plate of food in front of him, trying to ignore the questions in their eyes. "Nothing at all." 

* * * * * * 

Potter was staring at him. 

All through Care of Magical Creatures, in the hallways, during Potions Class, at lunch, in the library - every time he and Potter shared a class or came with in ten feet of each other, Draco could feel a pair of emerald green eyes burrowing into his back of his head. Or the side of his head. Or straight on. And every time he met those myopic green eyes, they immediately shifted away. 

It was getting extremely irritating. 

Finally, at breakfast the next day, he could take it no more. 

Tossing his napkin on the table, Draco stood up suddenly, startling his housemates. He ignored them and walked purposely towards the Gryffindor table, also ignoring the silence that had fallen over the Great Hall as the members of other houses watched him, expecting there to be an interesting confrontation. He could sense some of the teachers rising from their seats, more than likely also expecting a fight of some kind as well. 

Draco stopped right behind the messy-haired Gryffindor who had just looked away from him not five seconds earlier. Draco saw the color rising on Weasley's face where he sat across from his friend, spoiling for a fight. Draco ignored him, too. 

"WHAT?" Draco said a little louder than he intended. "What is it?! What do you want?!" Harry turned around and met his gaze, actually looking a little... embarrassed? Draco wanted to hit him. 

"I... I don't know what.." Harry began, standing up. 

"Yes, you do!" Draco practically shouted, cutting him off. "All day all you've been doing is staring at me! I mean, what, did I grow HORNS or something? What the HELL do you want from me?" Harry opened his mouth to reply but was cut off once again, this time by the angry read head that had appeared by his side. 

"Are you that full of yourself, you git?" Ron yelled, stabbing a finger into Draco's chest. "Are you so conceited that you think the whole world revolves around you? Nobody's staring at you, you... you... paranoid albino freak of nature!" 

Draco gaped at Ron, working his mouth like a fish for a moment before everything suddenly clicked into place. 

"It's a conspiracy!" he almost shouted, a strange sort of hysteria rising in his chest. A small part of his mind told him this was getting out of hand. He squashed it. "You're all in this together! It's all part of some plan to drive me crazy, isn't it?" 

Silence filled the Great Hall. 

"You ARE insane!" Ron said after a beat. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on to you!" Draco shouted back. He turned to look at Harry, who had sat back down and was staring at his food, a slight blush on his face. "You leave me alone!" he snapped at the boy, then spun on his heel and exited the hall with as much grace as he could muster. Ron sat back in his chair, watching him go for a second, then turning back to his table, shaking his head. 

"He's flipped," Ron said simply. "I knew it would happen eventually." 

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, looking at Harry, an unreadable expression on her face. 

* * * * * * 

A short while later, Draco found himself wandering aimlessly through the halls, lost in thought. He knew he was late to his first class, Herbology having started a good ten minutes ago. For once, Draco didn't care about his studies or the detention he would receive for missing class. 

"I need to get some sleep," he murmured, sinking down to the floor, his back against the cold stone of the hallway. Lack of sleep apparently led to paranoia, which apparently led to embarrassing outbursts in front of the entire school at breakfast. Draco was known for never losing his cool, a behavior forced into him from birth by tutors giving lessons on decorum and proper upper-class behavior. His father would be so disappointed in him. 

"So what else is new?" he muttered bitterly, closing his eyes and burying his head in his hands. 

"Mr. Malfoy, shouldn't you be in class?" 

_Great_, Draco thought. _Could this day get any worse?_ Draco looked up, seeing the tall potions master standing over him, looking down along his long nose. 

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape," Draco replied dully, not making any move to get up. Severus sighed. 

"Follow me, Mr. Malfoy," he said sharply, but not unkindly. The tall man turned and walked swiftly down the hall, not looking to see if Draco was following. The young blond pulled himself to his feet and shuffled after his teacher. 

They walked without speaking, Severus skillfully navigating the winding staircases that led down to the dungeon, his steps sure and measured. Draco idly wondered if you could play a concerto by the sound of his even steps, then mentally slapped himself. There went that crazy thinking again. He really needed to stop doing that. 

Finally, they arrived at a familiar portrait, the professor muttering a word softly under his breath, the painting swinging wide open. Draco followed his teacher into his private quarters, looking around at the room that hadn't changed in the five years he'd been going to Hogwarts. 

The predominate feature in the room were the books - books of every color and age, lining nearly every wall in worn, but sturdy, wooden bookcases. A warm fire crackled in an oversized fireplace, filling the room with warmth and light. The furnishings were all old, but well cared for, including a long desk with a comfortable looking ornate chair behind it in the center of the room and two squashy over-stuffed maroon arm chairs set out before it. A locked glass cabinet to the right of the desk held some of the most rare and powerful potion components in the known world, but Draco also knew a few bottles of potent alcohol were also kept there, under heavy wards. A dark entry way led out of the back of the room, leading to Severus' private potions lab, a place Draco had been only a few times when he was permitted to assist his favorite teacher in a particularly difficult concoction. A small folding cot served as his only bed, tucked between two large cauldrons in the lab. Potions often required constant watching, true experts in the craft having trained themselves to need only brief periods of sleep when their creations needed to simmer. As Snape sat down in his chair behind his desk, Draco collapsed into one of the armchairs, picking at the cloth on the arm, not looking at his professor. 

"Would you like to tell me what's going on, Draco?" Severus said without preamble. 

"What do you mean?" Draco asked innocently, not meeting Severus' eyes. 

"I don't have time for this, Draco," Severus snapped. "I have a class in two hours." 

"And I have a class right now," Draco retorted with a careless shrug. "You don't see me complaining." Severus sighed deeply, reaching up a hand to massage the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. 

"Draco..." he said, looking back at his student, a warning tone in his voice. 

"Sorry," the boy said, finally looking up and meeting his teacher's eyes. "I'm having a bad day." 

"I figured as much, after that disgraceful display at breakfast," Severus said as Draco cringed. "What I want to know is why you are having such a bad day." 

"I haven't been sleeping well." Draco closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, breathing in the scents of herbs, fungus, and smoke around him - a scent he knew he would always identify with Severus. "Bad dreams." 

"What sort of dreams?" Severus asked, leaning forward, looking concerned. Draco opened his eyes shrugged again. 

"Me dying, mostly," he said, gazing impassively at Severus shocked expression. 

"Dying? Dying how?" 

"Drowning, hanging, smothering, suffocating..." He ticked off each death on his fingers as if he were making a grocery list. "That sort of thing," he finished. 

"And how long has this been going on?" Severus asked him, his voice going stern. 

"About, oh..." Draco hedged, looking down again, then softly said, "five months." 

"FIVE MONTHS!" Severus exploded, jumping up from his chair. "Why didn't you come to me sooner, you silly boy!" 

"I didn't think they meant anything," Draco said defensively, watching his teacher pace angrily across the room and back again. "I figured it was just stress." Severus stopped back at his desk, leaning over to look at Draco at eye level, his hands tapping on the wooden surface. 

"I may not take much stock in Divination and Prediction, but even I know dreams, especially wizard dreams, mean something!" He sat back down in his chair, glaring at his favorite student. "You should have come to me sooner. You know better than that." 

"I know," Draco said, hating how meek his voice was coming out. "I just didn't want to worry you. You have enough on your plate as it is, what with Dumbledore and all." 

"I'll pretend you don't know anything about that," Severus said flatly. Draco gave a little grin. 

"Right," he said. "I know nothing, I hear nothing, I see nothing." 

"Knowing nothing, at least that much is certain," Severus quipped, then grew more serious. "Draco, these are dangerous times. I need you to be well rested and healthy. Merlin knows, Lucius will have my head or worse if I let anything happen to you." 

"Probably the 'or worse,' actually," Draco replied cheerfully. Severus shook his head. 

"Probably," he agreed. He reached out and grabbed a piece of paper, writing a quick note. "Go back to class now," he said, handing Draco the note. "As far as Professor Sprout is concerned, you're late because you were helping me with a project." 

"Thanks," Draco said, grateful, standing up. 

"I want you to come back here tonight," Severus said, also standing. "I'll give you something to help you sleep. The last thing we need is anymore... public confrontations." 

"I understand," Draco said, still feeling like cringing at the memory. He started to leave, but was halted by Severus' voice. 

"One more thing Draco," said the professor. Draco turned to look back at his teacher, his hand on the door. "How's the list coming along?" 

"I have thirty or so names so far," Draco said, keeping his voice low. "I have a few more people to talk to before I can let you know for sure." 

"Bring that tonight as well," Severus instructed. With a quick nod, Draco turned and walked out the door, letting it shut quietly as he left. As soon as he was gone, Severus collapsed into one of the armchairs, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. Without further fanfare, he reached into a pouch kept by his waist, taking out a pinch of blue powder and throwing it into the fire. 

"Connect me to Lucius Malfoy," he said in a clear voice, then sat back and waited for his friend's visage to appear in the flames. 

To be continued... 

A/N: What is The List? Why are Harry and Draco sharing dreams? Did Snape really explode when he said the phrase "FIVE MONTHS?" Answers to all these questions and less in the next chapter of "Breaking Destiny!" Thanks for reading! Review if you wish. 


	3. Chapter Two

A/N: I would like to thank my first four lovely reviewers for their insightful and detailed reviews: Baby Ty Ty, Draco Malfoy N Harry Potter, Elizabeth Culmer, and random reviewer. You guys are great! I'll take quality over quantity any day of the week! 

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter II

  


"BOO!" 

Draco didn't jump, just sighed and turned around. One of the Weasley twins, Draco could never remember which was which, was standing behind him, chuckling with his other Gryffindor friends and his brother. This had been going on all day ever since he'd left Snape's office. 

"Oh, do shut up," Draco told him, not having the energy to come up with a witty insult. The Gryffindors laughed again. 

"Better watch out, Malfoy," Lee Jordan said, grinning like a loon. "We're all in this conspiracy together, you know!" 

"Yeah, you never know who's out to get you these days!" added the other twin. 

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Draco turned on his heal and walked away, moving quickly through the halls towards the Great Hall, desperate to get to dinner. Classes were hell - the last half of Herbology with the Ravenclaws is what started this whole "Boo!" joke, Lisa Turpin thinking herself quite witty. Pansy Parkinson managed to shut her up fairly quickly. Regardless, the joke spread through the school and now seemed to be the first thing coming out of everybody's mouth that wasn't in Slytherin. It didn't help any that Draco had refused himself any sleep the night before, not wanting to share another dream with Potter. 

He could only flinch at the thought of what dinner would be like. But he wouldn't lose his cool, not again. Besides, nobody would be foolish enough to mock him in front of the whole teaching staff, right? 

Right? 

Draco shook his head and rushed with as much dignity as he could to the Hall, putting on his best "Don't shit with me" face. He'd feel better once he was surrounded by his friends. Professor Sprout took his note and frowned, but didn't give him a detention or take any points from his House. Instead, she insisted he come to the green houses after all his classes were done for the day to make up the work he'd missed. An hour of repotting plants was enough to make anybody cranky. Draco strongly suspected Professor Sprout made up the assignments to coordinate with her own private research, rather than in the interest of actually teaching them anything. Draco could admire her deceitfulness in that respect. Still, it left him with sore fingers from digging and sore arms from lifting heavy pots, so he found himself slightly ticked off. 

Dinner had already started, the Hall noisy and smelling wonderful. Draco walked to his usual seat, an empty plate set out before his chair, just waiting for him. He almost smiled, but checked himself. Gregory and Vincent gave welcoming grunts as they wolfed down their food, which Draco returned with a nod of his head. He sat down gracefully in his chair, looking down at his plate as it filled itself with a marvelous dinner - _Terrine de Saumon aux Epinards_, a French dish favored by his father. This time, Draco did smile. Ever since Dobby found employment at Hogwarts, all his food tasted like it came from home. 

_Maybe this day won't be all bad_, he thought to himself, picking up his fork in a well-practiced, well-mannered, smooth motion, befit of his etiquette training at the Manor. 

"BOO!" 

Draco dropped his fork, hearing it clatter to the table then on to the floor. He looked up to see Ron Weasley, laughing like a buffoon. Potter suddenly appeared by his side, no amusement on his face. Rather, he seemed embarrassed. 

"Ron..." Harry said warningly, holding on to his friend's arm, trying to pull him away from the table. Draco, wrapped up in his own embarrassment and anger at giving the school more to ridicule him about, didn't hear Harry's plea. Instead, the Slytherin stared at the table, trying to sort out his emotions before making a reaction. As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about it. 

Vincent and Gregory rose out of their seats as one, their hulking bodies blocking Draco from Ron's view. 

"Leave," Vincent growled. 

"Now," Gregory finished. 

They cracked their knuckles for emphasis. 

"Oh, so now you need your cronies to fight your battles for you, huh, Ferret?" Ron said loudly. Harry grabbed onto Ron's arm again, making a real effort to drag him away this time. It didn't work. 

"No," Blaise Zabini said easily, rising from his chair in one fluid motion to stand next to Greg and Vince, crossing his arms over his chest. "He just doesn't need to get his hands dirty bothering with fungus like you." 

Ron's face went as red as his hair, sputtering angrily. Harry again made a valiant effort to pull his friend away from a situation that he could see was rapidly spinning out of control. Just when it looked like things could start getting interesting (and perhaps a little bloody) a dark figure swooped down over the table. Severus Snape towered over his students, fixing them all with glare so powerful, the Hufflepuffs could feel it across the room. 

"If you are finished eating, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, then I _suggest_ that you return to your dorms for the night," he snarled, using the word "suggest" in place of "demand" and ending the sentence with an unspoken, "or you'll wish you'd never been born." Ron quelled under the Potion Master's expression and finally allowed Harry to drag him off and out of the Great Hall. The Professor spared one glance to the students in his own house who were still standing, giving them a brief nod, before returning to the teacher's table. The Slytherin boys took their seats. 

"There, that worked quite well, I think," Blaise said cheerfully. "Here Draco, you can use my fork. I don't need it." 

"Thank you," Draco replied, taking the offered implement. He looked at his three dorm mates and graced them with a barely perceptible smile. "Thank you." 

The "Boo" joke died that night. 

* * * * * * 

"Damn, I don't understand it," Ron groused as he toppled next to Hermione and Harry onto the long couch that sat along the back of the Gryffindor common room. "I finally get a chance to get a jab in on the Ferret and _I_ end up looking like an idiot." 

"Well, you did provoke him," Hermione said, looking up from the large book on her lap. "And during dinner, no less." 

"He deserves it!" Ron argued, huffing again. "He never misses an opportunity to get one over us. Why is it when we have chance to do the same, we always end up with egg on our faces?" 

"He really hasn't been," Harry said softly. Ron gave him a confused look. "Provoking us," Harry explained. "Not this year, anyway." 

"Yeah, well, the hex we gave him on the train at the end of last year taught him a lesson," Ron boasted. Hermione shook her head. 

"I don't think that's it," she said. "And Harry, you're right. Malfoy has been rather... subdued. The Slytherins even managed to play a clean game of Quidditch against the Hufflepuffs two weeks ago." 

"And win," Ron grumbled. 

"We shouldn't bother him," Harry said rather forcefully, drawing a look of surprise from his redheaded best friend. "If he's not bothering us, we should return the favor. There's no need to sink to his level." 

"Oh, come off it Harry," Ron said, standing up, glaring at his friend. "After all the crap he's put us through, he's earned a little pay back." 

"I just think we should leave him alone!" Harry retorted. "Why bring problems where they don't belong?" 

"This is ridiculous," Ron snapped, shaking his head angrily. "I'm going upstairs. If you want to play nice with the Snakes, that's you business. I guess you understand their language." 

"Ron!" Hermione said, aghast. Harry's parseltounge ability wasn't really discussed among them and it wasn't a talent Harry ever flaunted. It was far too identifiable with Voldemort to make anyone feel comfortable about it. 

"Forget it," Ron said and stormed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. 

"Is he crazy?" Hermione asked Harry, exasperated. "I think he's crazy." Harry just turned his head to look after him, smiling a little. 

"It's okay. We're all under a lot of stress right now." Harry looked back at Hermione and flinched at her knowing expression. "What?" he asked. 

"You _were_ staring at Malfoy all day yesterday," she said, her tone clipped. "I want you to tell me why." 

"Nothing gets by you, does it?" Harry asked, giving her a small grin. 

"Very rarely," Hermione replied smugly. "Now spill." 

"I can see why they made you a prefect," Harry said, then sighed. "All right... remember the weird dreams I mentioned yesterday morning?" 

"Yes," Hermione said excitedly, sitting forward on the couch. 

"Well, Draco was in them." Harry watched as Hermione raised and eyebrow, than sat back on the couch. 

"Is this a conversation you should be having with Snuffles?" she asked, grinning wickedly. Harry blinked in confusion, then opened his eyes wide and blushed bright red. 

"'Mione! No!" he protested. "Nothing like that! Jeez!" 

The girl laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Please continue." 

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, in this dream, he was out on lake, floating on it, right in the middle. He looked so..." Harry struggled to find the right word, not wanting to say "beautiful" in light of Hermione's apparently perverted frame of mind. "...peaceful," he settled on, ignoring her shrewd expression. "He said something to me, but I couldn't hear it. Suddenly, the sky got dark and he fell into the water. He looked like he was struggling with something, like something was dragging him down. I couldn't move to help him, but I think he was shouting to me to save him. I don't know what was attacking him, but my scar started hurting. The next thing I know, he's dragged under the water and I know he's drowning. Then, I woke up." 

Harry looked back at Hermione, her face dark and unreadable. "And your scar was hurting when you woke up?" she asked. Harry nodded. She frowned. 

"I don't know what to say," she told him. "Dreams are funny things, especially yours. It might be just a fluke, but I somehow doubt it." She reached out a hand to rest on Harry's arm. "Did you have another one last night?" 

"Actually, I didn't get any sleep at all last night," Harry said sheepishly. 

"That's not good," Hermione chastised. "You will get some sleep tonight, correct?" Harry made a sound of acquiesce and Hermione smiled triumphantly. She looked over at the clock on top of the mantle place, then stood up. "It's almost curfew," she said in her best prefect voice. "You should go to bed. We can look this up in the library tomorrow." Harry stood as well, then was surprised as Hermione gave him a quick hug. 

"Thanks for telling me," she said. Harry grinned. 

"You didn't give me much of an option," he replied. She chuckled, then pushed him towards the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. 

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter," she said, then turned to her own dorm. 

"Goodnight, Ms. Granger," he said in kind, then started his slow trek up to his room, hoping that he wouldn't dream. 

* * * * * * 

Draco whistled a tuneless song as he walked quickly through the hallways, heading towards Snape's office. The dungeons were practically silent, the only sound an occasional drip of water. Draco loved this time of day, just after curfew when Hogwarts took on a distinctly creepy feeling. It reminded him of home. 

In his haste to get to his destination, he stepped on an irate Mrs. Norris, who looked up at him with her lamp-like eyes and yowled, then hissed. Draco cursed. 

"It's just me, you stupid cat," he growled at the animal, picking her up in his arms and running a quick hand over her injured tail. "You shouldn't stand in the middle of dark hallways like that." 

"What delinquent student have we caught out of bed tonight, my pretty girl?" came the raspy voice of Argus Filch as he turned the corner right in front of Draco, a predatory grin on his face. He saw the young Slytherin and frowned. "Oh," he said, sounding hopelessly disappointed, "it's just you." 

"Sorry to spoil your night," Draco snapped, still petting the large cat in his arms, who'd started purring quite loudly. 

"On your way to see Professor Snape?" Filch asked him. 

"Of course," Draco replied, then put the cat on the ground, who immediately began rubbing herself around his ankles. 

"Go on then," he said, grumpily. "Come, my pretty. Let's go find some children we _can_ punish." Draco reached down and gave Mrs. Norris one final scratch behind her ears, then watched as she followed Filch down the hallway away from him. Brushing off the cat fur covering his robes, he continued on his way, reaching Snape's office in a matter of minutes, rapping twice quickly on the door. 

"Come in!" came Severus' annoyed and foreboding voice. Draco, used to his teacher's moods, walked right in. "You're late," Severus snarled. Draco shrugged. 

"Sorry," he said easily. "I ran into Filch on the way over." Draco paused, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the air. "Wolfsbane?" he asked, looking towards the private potions lab. "Do we have a werewolf coming over?" 

"Something like that," Severus said testily, walking over to a shelf and pulling down a small glass bottle filled with a bluish, thin liquid. He handed it to Draco. "Drink it." 

Draco did instantly as he was told, recognizing it as a sleeping potion. The potion felt cold in his mouth, but warmed as it made it's way to his stomach, making his arms and legs feel prickly. It tasted vaguely of raspberries. 

"Not bad," he said, licking his lips. "How long until it kicks in?" 

"Half an hour, give or take," Severus replied, taking the empty bottle back from his student and putting it back on the shelf. He gestured to Draco's usual chair in front of his desk. Draco sat down, feeling the potion coursing through his veins, his eyeballs starting to tingle. Who said potions wasn't fun? 

"Is having the werewolf here going to cause a problem?" Draco asked his teacher, finally getting down to business. Severus sat down in his chair and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his face showing exhaustion. The Wolfsbane Potion was notoriously difficult to make, requiring many hours of preparation and days of careful observation. He'd probably started on it right after dinner ended, some six hours ago. 

"It might," Severus finally admitted. "Your father and I agree that the fewer people we involve in this business, the better. Gryffindor-types have a tendency to stick their noses where they don't belong." 

"That's very, very true," Draco agreed, then frowned. "But still, we can't change the time table. We have to do this before the holiday break. It might be too late after that." 

"How many are we looking at?" Severus asked. Draco reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a blank piece of paper. Drawing out his wand, he cast a complicated unlocking spell on the parchment, his neat handwriting gradually reappearing. Looking intently at the paper, he did a quick count, then gave a sharp nod. 

"Forty-seven," he said, handing the parchment over to Severus. The Potions Master took the document, his expression growing concerned. 

"More than I expected," he muttered as he looked at the page, then quickly added, "Which is a good thing, of course. Still, it will be difficult." 

"But doable," Draco said, his voice filled with conviction. "It has to be done. Tensions are starting to rise. You've told me what it was like during the last time..." 

"Yes, yes," Severus said shortly, cutting Draco off. "I remember. Now that we know how many we're dealing with, we'll start putting the final touches on the plan." Severus looked up suddenly, turning his head towards his lab, then stood up. "I have to tend the Wolfsbane," he told Draco, handing the parchment back to the boy. Draco quickly cast the re-locking spell, the paper going immediately blank, then returned it to his pocket and rose to his feet. He closed his eyes, swaying dizzily. 

"Yes, and I think your sleeping potion is kicking in," Draco said, picking his way to the door. 

"Can you make it back to your room?" Severus asked, already on his way to his lab. "If not, you can stay here." 

"No, I'm fine, Severus," Draco assured him, pulling the door open. "I'll see you at breakfast." The Potions Master gave him a curt nod and waved Draco away, who gingerly made his way back to the dorm, making it to his bed just before the potion kicked in full force, knocking him into unconsciousness. 

* * * * * * 

Draco found himself out at the green house again, the morning light just peaking over the forbidden forest. He stood, feeling the warm sun wash over him, smelling the green plants growing around him. The morning larks had just started singing their songs, rustling in the branches of a nearby tree, getting ready to find their breakfasts. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily, looking down at the small flowering bushes that lined the base of the green house. 

Without warning, Draco was shoved forward into the shrubbery, a shout of surprise pulled from this throat, his body twisting around of its own accord, landing on his back. Draco looked up, shaking his hair out of his face, squinting in the light to see who pushed him. 

An all too familiar dark-robed figure stood before him, ominous in its silence, a halo of light shining behind it as it blocked out the sun. Draco gaped in terror, trying to stand up, trying to reach his wand, anything! His arms wouldn't move! In horror, Draco looked down to see the unassuming bushes he'd once admired were now thick vines of Strangleweed, winding its way around his arms, legs, and chest, quickly moving up to wrap around his neck. With a strangled gasp, Draco started twisting his body, trying to get away, knowing intrinsically that it would only make it worse but unable to do anything else. He turned his head sharply to the left as the vine tightened around his throat, looking for anyone who could help him. 

Standing not five feet away, a look of shock on his face, green eyes opened wide, stood Harry Potter, apparently dismayed beyond belief at Draco's situation. He took a step forward, but it seemed to take all of his effort. Draco felt his vision dimming around the edges, sharp spots jumping before his eyes as his head grew more and more light and he realized he no longer had any feeling in his body. Everything went black. 

Draco sat up, his blankets twisted around his body, testament to his frantic thrashing during his night terror, sweat dripping down into his eyes. He gasped, his breath shaky, limbs trembling as he tried to reorient himself with his surroundings, gripping his sheets and voicing the only phrase that seemed appropriate. 

"Damn it!" 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: One of Snape's potions not working? What's up with that? What plan are they talking about? Will Harry ever do anything to stop Draco from dying every night in his dreams? Answers to these questions and less in the next chapter of "Breaking Destiny!" Thanks for reading! Review if you wish! 


	4. Chapter Three

A/N: Thanks to AmZ, JadeDragon, and once again, Draco Malfoy N Harry Potter for reviewing! *humble bow* You people are wonderful! Now then, this chapter is a little shorter than I would like, but if I kept going, it would have been way too long! I'll just make up for it next chapter. Enjoy! 

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter III

  


"Damn it!" Harry groaned, throwing his sheets off as he sat up, scrubbing at his forehead. 

"Myrph..." came a mumbled sound from Ron through the curtains of Harry's bed. "Harry, you a'right?" Harry turned his head in the general direction of his friend's voice. 

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Go back to sleep." Ron made muffled noise of consent and Harry could hear him turn over. After waiting for the sounds of Ron's soft, rhythmic snoring to start up again, he carefully pushed back his curtain, reaching out to the side table for his glasses and wand, then padded quietly out of dorm, down to the common room. 

Harry flopped down in one of the armchairs that rested in front of the fireplace, starting up a blaze with a mumbled word and a point of his wand. A warm light filled the room, driving away the slight chill that'd seeped in the tower due to the early October morning. He gazed out the window to his right, wondering if it would start snowing soon, then looked back at the fire, raising a hand to brush against his scar once again. 

What was going on? Harry couldn't imagine why he was dreaming of Draco's death. Sure, he didn't like the git all that much, but he didn't want anyone to die. It wasn't right, to be dreaming these things. To top it all off, Dream Draco didn't look anything like he did in real life. He looked vulnerable and weak, helpless and, something Harry could admit to himself only at two o'clock in the morning, beautiful. It just wasn't right. 

He'd tried this time, he really tried. Right after the Death Eater shoved Draco forward into the Strangleweed, Harry managed to take a step forward, though it took every ounce of will he possessed. He wanted to help, wanted to drag that Death Eater away from Draco, save him from the fate he could see playing out all too clearly before it happened. 

"Too late," Harry murmured, closing his eyes, feeling the sharp prickle of tears dancing behind his eyelids. He refused to let them fall. "Too late." 

* * * * * * 

The water streamed down his body, as hot as he could stand, washing away the sweat and tears covering his skin, all evidence of his horrible nightmare swirling away down the drain. Draco leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, letting the water cascade down his back. 

This sucked. This really, really sucked. Snape's potions were supposed to work, dammit! Well, Snape was going to get a piece of his mind, that much was certain. Given the way he reacted after Draco told him about the dreams, he expected a better standard of care than what he got. Was he so wrapped up in helping the werewolf that'd he'd let his favorite student's suffering slide to the back burner? Draco ground his teeth and slammed his right fist into the wall, trying to force some of the rage out of his system. 

"Ow!" Draco rubbed his fist, the pain tingling up through his wrist. "Stupid, stupid..." He reached down and turned off the water, slipping out of the shower. Lifting one of the white fluffy towels from the stack off the cart, he scrubbed himself down until his skin turned red. 

Draco dropped the towel to the floor, knowing the house elves would pick it up. Yanking on his green silk pajama pants and white t-shirt with swift, jerky motions, Draco stalked out of the bathroom, running a hand through his long, sopping hair, not bothering to squeeze out the excess water. His hair dried perfectly straight anyway. 

The fire in the common room was already lit. The dungeons became chilly in the summer months, so as winter was approaching, it got down right freezing at times. The large blaze burning in the fireplace served to warm the dormitories located a few floors up and it was never extinguished. Draco sat down on a couch at the far side of the room, pulling up his legs close to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

The dreams had been easier to handle when they didn't feature Potter. Draco considered death to be a private thing and did not appreciate his subconscious bringing in witnesses. Although, at least this time, it looked like the Boy Who Wouldn't Fucking Die attempted to help him, even if it wasn't a very formidable attempt. 

Draco chewed on his bottom lip, watching the shadows dancing on the walls, his body shivering with emotion as the dream slipped back to the forefront of his mind. 

It was almost funny, is sick sort of way. Draco felt like he could start laughing at any minute, but forced himself not to, afraid the hysterical sounds would wake his housemates and bring them downstairs. Insanity was also a private thing and Draco decided long ago that if he was going to go off the deep end, he'd like to do it all by himself, thank you very much. Spending night after night getting killed by Death Eaters definitely fell into the category of going loopy. And now, having Dream Potter there to witness it... 

Draco laughed a little in spite of himself, then started humming a cheerful song. 

* * * * * * 

"Boy, Harry, you look like death." 

Harry glared at Seamus across the breakfast table. "Thanks," he replied sourly. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, poking at the runny eggs on his plate with his fork, not feeling very hungry. Putting his fork on the table, Harry reached for his orange juice, raising the glass to his lips and taking a sip. 

He'd stayed in the Common room until dawn, thinking about the dream and what it might mean. Draco dying made him think of Cedric dying the previous year, wracking him with guilt. Helpless, unable to save the Hufflepuff - there were too many similarities between the dreams and the reality he'd suffered in that graveyard for him to simply ignore it. 

"Harry?" Hermione asked, sitting to his left, looking at him with concern. Harry gave her a weak smile. 

"I'm okay," he told her. "Just the usual, you know?" Hermione gave a nearly imperceptible nod, indicating to Harry that they would talk about this later. 

"Probably just stressing out about the Ravenclaw game in three days," said a chipper, well-rested Ron. "Right, Harry?" 

Harry nearly dropped his glass, eyes widening in shock. He'd completely forgotten about Quidditch! Game plans, practice times, all of it had slipped his mind. He inwardly cursed his brain, dwelling on fantasies, no matter how terrible, instead of focusing on the here and now. 

"Um, right," he recovered quickly, ducking his eyes under Ron's peculiar glance. His long pause before replying had drawn him strange looks up and down the table. "The Quidditch game," Harry said, trying to repair the situation. "My mind has been all over that." 

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Seamus told him. "We'll get those birds, no problem. Their game is spotty, at least as far as what I've seen at their practices." 

"When did you go to their practices?" Ron asked, curious. 

"He's dating Mandy Brocklehurst," Neville piped up from where he was sitting at the edge of the fifth year group, next to Ginny Weasly. Seamus blushed, but all eyes turned to Neville, expressions of surprise and curiosity on their faces. "What?" Neville asked, puzzled by the reaction. "I'm quiet, not blind." 

"Breakfast has been so pleasant," Dean remarked, changing the subject and looking across the hall. "I wonder where Malfoy is." Harry looked at Dean, startled, then spun around in his chair, raking his glance across the Slytherin table. 

Draco Malfoy was missing. 

* * * * * * 

The cot squeaked as Severus sat up, not twenty minutes after he'd laid down. Briefly scrubbing his eyes, he rose to his feet, looking over at the cauldron bubbling gently away over a green fire on a nearby table, bitter smoke floating through the air. Picking up a spoon made of solid oak, he gave the potion three quick stirs in a clockwise direction, then one slow stroke counter-clockwise. The potion turned from a putrid green to a dull mauve, the smoke all but disappearing. Muttering a quick spell, the fire started glowing bright yellow, the potion jumping up to a rapid boil. Severus gave a nod of satisfaction and ran a hand through his greasy hair, grimacing at the feel. 

No time for a shower this morning, Severus knew, casting a quick refreshing spell over himself so that he would at least smell decent before his first class this morning. Complicated potions were time-consuming and very rarely allowed the maker time to his or herself. Sleeping, showering, and eating all found their ways to the back burner. A potion that one had been working on for three weeks shouldn't be ruined because the composer felt a little grimy. The Curse of the Potion Maker - a lack of personal hygiene - was prevalent with anyone who took the subject seriously. Severus long suspected that in itself made up the main reason why the majority of wizarding world looked upon them with distaste, true masters of the craft often secluding themselves by choice. 

Wiping the soot on his hands off on his robes, Severus looked down at the Wolfsbane potion one more time, mentally organizing his day around it, knowing he needed to come back to it after his second class to add a few more ingredients and stir a bit more. It would be eight more days before the potion would be ready, just in time for the full moon and - he ground his teeth - Mr. Lupin's arrival. 

"Jerk," Severus muttered, turning away from his potion and walking swiftly into his main study. He skimmed his eyes across the room, mentally noting which scrolls and items he needed to take with him, but his eyes halted on the armchair in front of his desk. He blinked. 

"Did you know you have seven-hundred and thirty-six bricks on your ceiling?" Draco asked him from where he was sprawled out across the chair, legs hanging over one arm, head tilted back along the other, his long hair trailing on the floor. 

"Yes," Severus replied. "What are you doing here?" 

Draco looked at him as if he was stupid. "Counting the bricks on your ceiling, obviously." 

"I realize that much." Severus walked to stand in front of his student, looking him up and down. One thing that could be said about Draco was that he was always neat, never leaving his room without his nicest clothes on and hair perfectly styled, just in case. One never knew when one would run into a Dignitary or an influential member of high society, thus one always had to look their best, or so Lucius had informed him once when he asked. However, at this moment, Draco was wearing his pajamas, his hair loose and everywhere, feet bare. The fact that he must have walked from the dormitories all the way to Severus' office dressed like this disturbed the Potions Master to no end. 

"Then why did you ask?" Draco asked mildly, looking at Severus upside down, his eyes wide and glassy. 

"What I meant is," Severus began slowly, "is what brings you to my office in the first place?" 

"Oh..." Draco replied, blinking up at his teacher. "I got choked to death by Strangleweed out at the greenhouse. Very unpleasant." 

Severus sighed, reaching down to help his student sit up, not liking the red tinge hitting his normally pale cheeks from holding his head upside down. "The potion didn't work, I gather," he said, once getting Draco situated in a what looked like a more comfortable position. 

"Right-o!" Draco poked Severus in the chest as he spoke, trying to emphasize his point. "That's a black mark on your record. Five points from Slytherin." 

Severus leaned down, using his fingers to pull down on the skin under Draco's eyes, looking for dilated pupils and sniffing for the scent of alcohol or some other illicit drug. Nothing. 

"Exhaustion," Severus finally diagnosed, standing back up and crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Well, that's odd," Draco remarked, letting his head lull to the side. "I mean, just because I haven't gotten a full nights sleep since the end of last May..." His eyes drifted closed for a second, then snapped open, his hands going to grip the edge of the arm chair. "Sleep bad..." he muttered. 

"These aren't normal dreams," Severus said, taking a step back to sit on his desk. "The potion would have worked, otherwise." 

Draco "Mmmm-hmmmed," putting his hands out in front of him, straitening and flexing his fingers. Severus watched him repeat this action about twenty times before his arm snaked out and he grabbed Draco's hands in his own, stilling him. Draco raised an eyebrow at his teacher, who rolled his eyes and released the boy's hands back to him. 

"Something must have caused these dreams to start," Severus continued, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Do you remember anything that might have happened around the time your dreams started? Anything out of the ordinary?" 

"Um..." Draco began, squinting his red-rimmed eyes in thought, casting his sleep-deprived mind about as best he could. "Finals," he finally said. "End of the year feast, dead Diggory, home... Oh!" He sat up suddenly, then put a hand to his head and slumped back down. "I was cursed," he finished softly. 

Severus stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. "Cursed?" he finally said. "You were cursed and you didn't tell me?" 

"Dad knew," Draco replied defensively, rubbing his eyes. "It was on the train on the way home. The Gryffindors. They cursed me." Draco yawned and dropped his hands back to his lap. "Oh, and Vincent and Greg, too," he added, almost as an afterthought. 

"Which curse?" Severus asked shortly, silently berating himself for not paying more attention to the going-ons of the Malfoy household over the summer. He remembered now that Lucius had mentioned something about Draco and the train, but he was so wrapped up working with Dumbledore, he hadn't paid it much mind. 

"More than one." Draco put his hand behind his neck to hold his head up. He felt weary and lightheaded, not liking all the thinking he was being forced to do. "I'm not sure which ones. Several." 

"Hell!" Severus cursed, standing up and smacking a fist down on his desk. "Those blasted little monsters!" He spun around, looking straight at Draco, who was currently staring at the floor with keen interest. "Draco..." The boy looked up, blinking his eyes rapidly. 

"Yes?" he inquired, his expression fuzzy. Severus took a deep breath. 

"Who were the Gryffindors that cursed you?" he asked slowly, enunciating each word with care. Draco tilted his head back and made a low rumbling sound in his chest. He eventually managed to look blearily back at his teacher. 

"The usual ones," he said, his words slurring slightly. "Potter, Granger, the Weasel, the... other two Weasels... I think that's it." 

"And to think we made that girl a prefect," Severus muttered angrily. "A combination of curses can have a disastrous effect. You three were lucky you weren't permanently injured or worse." 

Draco didn't appear to be listening anymore. He gave Severus a pleading look, his expression turning distressed. "Severus," he said, shaking his head, his eyes filling with tears, "I'm really tired and I don't feel well at all. Please... I just want to sleep!" 

Severus didn't hesitate, simply stepped forward and wrapped his student up in a warm hug. Draco tucking his head under Severus' chin, sobbing weakly into his robes. He patted his hair, angry with himself for not noticing his plight earlier. Water under the bridge, he supposed. Once Draco's sobs died down, Severus pushed him back, looking at him straight on. 

"Please, help me sleep!" he begged softly, tear streaks on his cheeks. "Cut out part of my brain, I don't care!" Severus shook his head. 

"I'm sorry," he began gently. "We don't know what these dreams are. In light of your best interest, I can't let you fall asleep again, at least until I figure out what curses were cast on you and what effect they might be having." 

"I think I'm going to throw up," Draco said weakly, looking very green indeed. 

"Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey," Severus replied quickly, reaching down and helping his student to his feet before he had two messes to wade through, one of them physical. "She can keep you awake and treat you there while I start investigating what happened to you, who's responsible, and what we can do about it." Draco's legs collapsed under him and Severus sighed again, then reached down and easily picked up his student in his arms. 

"This is so humili.. humili... embarrassing," Draco moaned, swinging an arm around Severus' neck. 

"You tell me," came the amused replied. "I haven't carried you like this in almost ten years." Severus grunted, shifting Draco's weight as he made his way out the door of his office. "You're actually not much heavier." 

"Shut up," Draco muttered, burying his head in his teacher's shoulder. "I just hope no one sees us." 

"They're in class," Severus told him as they walked swiftly to the hospital wing, "as I should be. Those first years are probably tearing my classroom apart." He shook his head, looking down at the boy nestled in his arms. "The lengths I go to for you, Mr. Malfoy." 

Draco looked up and gave Severus the most dazzling smile he could under the circumstances. "Well, that's what Godfathers are for, after all." 

Snape gave a small grunt of amusement and resignation, then continued on his way. 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: Hm... Well... This chapter didn't go much of anywhere, but we're working up to it. I'm trying to lay the ground work for what's coming... Ah, well. You'll see. Review if you wish! 


	5. Chapter Four

A/N: Exposition bay-bee! We've got exposition in this chapter! Boo-yeah!   
Thanks to Azzie, Whisp, Leon, julia, Zahrah May, treachery89, maudlinrose, Kearie, deadstar, Schadenfreude Darcy, and, yet again, Draco Malfoy N Harry Potter for reviewing! Wow! I'm really glad you're all liking it so far. I promised a longer chapter and here it is! Enjoy! 

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter IV

  


Very few things in the known world could make Severus Snape shiver in fear. Given his lifestyle, a healthy appreciation of fear was completely understandable, but there were a few wild cards - his fear of large dogs (although he attributed that to the incident in his youth), not to mention the slight building of trepidation that entered his system every time Neville Longbottom walked into his classroom, and a mild touch of agyrophobia* he'd never fully been able to conquer. However, nothing reduced him to feeling like a naughty four-year-old more than Madame Pomfrey's rage focused on him at full wattage. 

"I didn't know about this until last night," Severus said defensively, taking a step backwards as Madame Pomfrey walked towards him, her eyes blazing. 

"How could you not notice?" she hissed, waving her arm in the general direction of her newest patient. Draco was lying on a hospital bed, his body jerking slightly, muttering to himself. "This is one of the most advanced cases of severe exhaustion I've ever seen! Don't you know it can cause brain damage?" 

"You're right, okay?" he replied loudly, then lowered his voice at the nurse's warning glance. "I should have noticed," Severus continued softly, regretfully. "I've been so distracted lately, I haven't been paying close enough attention to what was happening in my own House. But you have to understand, Madame, he so good at hiding these things!" 

"And now you're telling me I can't even give him something to help him sleep?" she asked, her voice filled with apprehension. 

Severus shook his head. "Not until I figure out what's causing his nightmares. They could have a more disastrous effect on his body than the exhaustion." Stepping around the nurse, he walked over to where his student fitfully rested, reaching his hand down to stroke the boy's sweaty forehead. Madame Pomfrey's harsh expression softened at the look of caring etched onto the usually bitter man's face. She walked by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Do you think you can figure it out?" Severus looked up, his face twisting into an expression she was more familiar with, a fierce determination and a touch of cruelty lighting in his eyes. 

"Oh, I'll figure it out," he sneered, "and woe to those I find responsible." He turned quickly and stalked out of the hospital wing, his robes billowing behind him, his mood black as a moonless night. Pomfrey watched his exit, only mildly startled. She looked around her and sighed. 

"Better prepare more beds," she muttered, walking over to the linen closet for clean sheets. 

* * * * * * 

Harry left Care of Magical Creatures, Ron and Hermione by his side, feeling worried and uneasy. His mind was racing, ignoring the conversations going on around him. Was Draco okay? Why wasn't he in class? Dreaming about somebody's death was one thing - Draco not coming to class after he witnessed his death up close and personal was something else, even if it did only occur in a dream. It felt too strange to be a coincidence and the lack of sleep he'd suffered the night before wasn't helping. 

"Harry!" Harry nearly stumbled at the sound of his name being shouted, turning to see a bewildered Ron staring at him. Apparently, he'd been trying to get his attention for some time. 

"Sorry?" Harry asked his friend. "I wasn't listening." 

"Obviously," Ron said, sounding somewhat concerned and a little irritated. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past five bloody minutes!" Harry blinked and looked around, realizing they were now off the grounds and walking through the halls towards the Charms classroom. 

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized again, giving his friend a sheepish grim. "My mind was wandering. What was it you said?" 

Ron huffed. "I said, what's the plan for Quidditch practice tonight?" 

Quidditch... practice? Harry cast his mind about, trying to bring it back to where it belonged. "Um..." Harry finally managed, "practice drills?" 

"And?" Ron prodded. 

"Er... I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I thought maybe I could talk to..." Harry paused, trying to recall breakfast and who'd said something about the Ravenclaws. "Seamus!" he remembered, feeling a bit triumphant. "Yeah, ask Seamus for what he thinks about the Ravenclaw strategy and work from there, if he'll tell us." 

Ron nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. He'd bought it. 

"Well, I do want to remind you two that we have NEWTs coming up in less than six months," Hermione chimed in. "Don't you think you should be studying? I can help you set up some schedules, if you want." Ron rolled his eyes. 

"Please, 'Mione, we have plenty of time!" he said, exasperated. Harry took a step back and watched as the two of them started snipping at each other, a small smile on his face. The summer had been long and lonely and it felt good to hear his friends flirting with each other, even if they'd never admit it. Harry let his thoughts drift back to Draco, not noticing when his two best friends stopped suddenly after turning a corner, Harry slamming into Ron's back. 

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron asked, alarmed. Harry looked over his shoulder to see a teary-eyed Ginny, crouching in the corner, along with a number of other equally upset fourth-years. 

"It was potions class," Colin Creevy said, shaking a little. "It was horrible!" 

"Snape was in such a fowl mood," Ginny added, snuffling. "I've never seen him so angry!" 

Ron leaned down, wrapping an arm around his sister. "Snape is a slimy git!" he told her. "Don't let him get to you." 

"He was worse than usual, though," Colin said. 

"You should have seen what the first-years were like after first period," said another fourth-year whose name Harry couldn't remember. 

Ron helped his sister to his feet, giving her a brief hug. "He probably got a good look at himself in the mirror this morning, that's all." 

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, but smiled a little as the fourth-years all gave small chuckles. "Don't insult teachers." 

"Ah, he deserves it," Ron said, giving Hermione a wink, then turned to the fourth-years. "You all should go to your next class." They nodded and moved down the hall in a cluster, seeming uneasy being apart. Ron shook his head, letting out a small growl. 

"Glad we don't have potions today," he said to Harry. 

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger." The three turned around, startled to see Professor Snape looming over them, his expression unreadable. "Follow me," he said darkly. 

"Um... Professor?" Hermione said meekly, unusually intimidated by Snape's mannerisms. "We have class right now." The professor narrowed his eyes to dark slits and Hermione cowered back. 

"Follow. Me. Now." Snape turned and stalked off and the three Gryffindors had no choice but to follow. 

* * * * * * 

Harry fidgeted in the surprisingly comfortable armchair set out before his least favorite professor's desk. He'd never been in Snape's private office before and it was nothing like he expected. For some reason, he'd always guessed it would be dark and creepy, not warm and inviting. There were a ton of books and everything was neat and organized, but Harry, for all of his imaginings, felt there should be some cobwebs and nasty things floating in jars on his desk at the very least. 

"I wonder where he keeps his coffin," Ron muttered under his breath, sitting in an identical chair to the left of his own, obviously thinking much along the same lines. Hermione, sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair to Harry's left, didn't hear Ron's comment so didn't snap at him, her eyes fixated on the ancient tomes surrounding her. 

"He's got quite a collection," she whispered, temporarily forgetting her apprehension in the amazement of Snape's library. Harry didn't reply, looking worriedly at the door in the back of the room that the professor had disappeared behind right after curtly instructing the three Gryffindors to sit down, shut up, and if so much as one dust mite was out of place when he got back, he'd use them for potion components. 

Harry believed him. 

Ten minutes later, Severus Snape swooped back into the room, closing the door firmly behind him so they couldn't see what it hid. He sat down in his chair, staring coldly at them, silent as death. After a moment, he leaned forward and steeped his fingers on the desk. Harry noticed that he, Hermione, and Ron all leaned back as one. Snape was that unnerving. 

"Now," he began softly, his voice filled with a soft fury that sent shivers down Harry's spine, "I am going to speak and you are going to listen. When I ask you a question, you will answer truthfully." The "or else" hung heavily in the air at the end of his sentence. Ron swallowed audibly. 

"You assaulted several students on the train ride home from Hogwarts at the end of last term," he continued. "That alone is reason enough for me to take steps to have the three of you permanently expelled." Hermione went white as a sheet and opened her mouth to protest, but Professor Snape silenced her with a sharp glance. She sank down into her chair and remained silent. "You are going to give me an account of exactly what happened on the train ride and which curses you had the gall to cast on Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Malfoy." He sat back and nodded at Hermione, who took a deep breath, her arms shaking. 

"They came to our compartment," she began, her voice wavering a bit. "They were saying things... horrible things... I don't really remember..." 

"It was about Cedric," Harry interjected softly. 

"What about Mr. Diggory?" Snape asked, his voice still holding that creepy, even, unemotional tone. 

"He said that Cedric was the first," Harry said, "that mudbloods and muggle-lovers would be next, now that Voldemort was back." Ron cringed when Harry said the infamous name, but Snape didn't even blink. "He said I chose the losing side and that he'd cautioned me about what kind of friends I should make back in first year," Harry continued, then trailed off as Professor Snape leaned forward again. 

"And you somehow interpreted this as a threat?" he asked, his rising in volume, eyes flashing with anger. 

"It was the way he said it," Harry replied feebly. "It really sounded like a threat, not at all like a..." Harry paused, replaying what Draco had said to him that day, his jaw dropping open, a hand going to his mouth, his heart jumping into his throat. "A warning." Harry closed his eyes, feeling sick. "It was a warning." 

Ron flashed Harry an odd look but remained silent. 

"So," Snape went on, his hands clenching into fists, "the three of you, along with Mr. Weasley's brothers, decided it was necessary to curse him, all at once?" 

"We didn't plan it." Harry opened his eyes and looked over at Hermione, who was wringing her hands nervously. "It just sort of happened." 

Professor Snape closed his eyes briefly and ground his teeth. He looked back at them, his expression carefully controlled. "You will tell me which curses you cast on the three of them," he said. 

"I used a Confundus Charm on Malfoy," Hermione began, wanting to get this all over with as quickly as possible. 

"I cast a fur-growing charm on Goyle," Ron added, "and Fred used Stupefy on him as well. George hit Crabbe with Jelly-Legs, I think." 

Harry nodded. "I cast Furnunculus," he said softly. "I was aiming for Draco, but it hit Crabbe for some reason." 

Professor Snape got very still, his expression growing ever blacker. He gave Harry a shrewd look for using Draco's first name so informally, but decided to ignore it for now. He gave one slow nod, then rose to his feet, placing both hands flat on his desk. 

"You three disgust me," he said, voice dangerously low. "Your behavior is nothing short of reprehensible. Gryffindors are supposed to have some sort of honor," he spat, furious, "but you throw around magic to cause pain to others like the darkest of dark wizards I know! Now stand up." The three students did as they were told, rising shakily from their chairs to face the Potion Master's rage. 

"I am taking 150 points each from Gryffindor for your lack of judgement," Snape growled. "You will each be serving a detention each day for the next sixty days with Mr. Filch. Ms. Granger, I'm certain your Prefect status will be re-evaluated after I take this situation up with the Headmaster. As for you two," he said, turning his attention to Ron and Harry, Hermione looking like she was about to faint, "I do not believe you will be playing Quidditch for the rest of this year." 

Snape turned away from them, putting his hands on his hips, gazing at the fire burning in the large fireplace in the room. "If the world were in a different state, don't think for a moment I wouldn't have you three expelled." He turned and looked back at them. 

"Now, get the hell out of my office," he finished, turning back to the fire. Hermione and Ron fled the room, but Harry stayed. 

"Professor..." he began. 

"I said get out, Mr. Potter," Snape snapped, not looking up. Harry almost moved to the door, but held his ground. 

"I just want to know if Draco is okay," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. Professor Snape turned and looked at him, his face once again a blank mask. "I mean, he wasn't in class this morning and he was acting kind of strange the other day and..." Harry stopped. Professor Snape hadn't so much as blinked. 

"It's none of your concern, Mr. Potter," he said evenly. "Get out." 

Harry did as he told. 

Severus sighed and turned back to the fire, staring at it for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to a bookshelf. He pulled down a few heavy volumes, then dropped them on his desk and sat down, picking up one and starting to read. 

* * * * * * 

Draco stared at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, watching the bricks above him with great interest. They seemed to be doing a little dance, just for him. He hummed softly along with the moves, as was appropriate. A face suddenly jumped in front of his field of vision, blocking his view of the dancing bricks. 

"Dancing bricks," he protested, lifting a weak hand to brush the face away. 

"Not now, Mr. Malfoy," said the face, which apparently had arms as it was forcing him to sit up. "Drink this," said the face and a hand put a phial to his lips. Draco drank the liquid, finding the taste not too horrid. Instantly, the fuzziness in his brain cleared and his temples began to pound. 

"Ow..." he moaned, rubbing his head. The face shifted into a person Draco instantly recognized as Madame Pomfrey, looking at him in such a way that he felt like a bug in a jar. Or perhaps a frog on a dissection tray. He couldn't decide which. 

"It's a temporary fix," she said testily, helping him lay back down, brushing a hand over his hair, "but at least some of the confusion is gone." 

"I feel much better," Draco told her, nodding his head, then winced, "except for my headache." The nurse frowned. 

"Anything I could give you for that would just make you drowsy," she said, "and Professor Snape said you couldn't sleep." 

Draco started to nod again, but checked himself. "I understand that," he replied. "Wouldn't want my dreams to kill me." Madame Pomfrey looked confused, but didn't comment. Obviously, Severus had not told her the whole story. 

"Well," she said, "lay back and, well, don't relax. I'll be at my desk, so call if you need anything." Draco gave her a thumbs up and she walked away. He looked up at the ceiling again and frowned. 

The bricks weren't dancing anymore. 

Draco cursed silently. Now he was _really_ bored. 

* * * * * * 

In an unspoken decision, instead of going to their Charms class currently in progress, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sacked out in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was crying softly on one of the large sofas, her legs pulled up underneath her. Ron sat by her side with a comforting arm around her shoulders, his face shadowed in thought. Harry sat alone on a recliner next to the couch, staring down at the floor. 

"He's going... to ruin... our lives," Hermione finally said between muffled sobs. "I can't... believe... this is happening." 

"It's a ferret-boy's fault," Ron said angrily. "He probably ran crying to Snape to get a little pay back for us making fun of him the other day, the two-faced, scheming, little bas-" 

"It's not Draco's fault," Harry interrupted him, looking up at his friends. "It's ours and ours alone. No matter what he said to us, we never should have cursed him and his friends on the train that day. Professor Snape was, as much as I hate to say it, right. We really could have hurt them." 

"Yeah, and that would have been a tragedy," Ron said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Harry, after all the crap he's put us through, I wouldn't care if he dropped dead tomorrow!" 

Harry blanched and stood up, feeling suddenly ill. "Don't say that," he whispered. "Please, Ron, don't ever say that." 

"Sorry," came the mumbled reply, thinking that Harry was still sensitive over Cedric's death. 

Hermione rubbed her red eyes, still snuffling a little. "Do you really think they'll take away my Prefect status?" she asked worriedly. "Do you think that you two won't be allowed to play Quidditch for the rest of the year?" 

"Snape can't make those decisions on his own," Ron told her consolingly. "I'm sure he's just blowing this all out of proportion." 

"The House is going to be furious with us, losing 750 points," she said, looking as though she were about to start crying again. "I don't think we even have that many points yet!" 

"After Snape talks to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, we'll worry about what's going to happen. Until then, we need to just relax and go on like normal, right Harry? Harry?" Ron looked around the common room. 

Harry had disappeared. 

* * * * * * 

It was late in the evening before Severus could make it to the Hospital Wing. After teaching his afternoon classes, tending the Wolfsbane, coupled with his research on Draco's condition, he barely had the time to do anything else, forgoing dinner in the Great Hall and just grabbing something out of his private stores on his way out of the dungeons. 

The Wing was brightly lit, unusual because Madame Pomfrey normally kept is somewhat dark for her patients. The extra lights were no doubt present to assist Draco in his attempt to keep awake. He walked and saw his Godson sitting up on the bed, playing a game of cards with the nurse, both appearing a little frazzled. They both looked up as he approached. 

"Tell me you weren't the one to teach this boy how to play poker, Severus," Madame Pomfrey asked him, giving a slight disapproving frown. "He's far too good at it." 

"I plead the fifth," came the Potion Master's sardonic reply, though he felt incredibly pleased to see Draco looking better. Bringing him to the nurse had been a fantastic idea. 

"Any luck?" Draco asked him, looking down at the small pile of parchments clutched in Severus' hands. The older man nodded and sat down in a chair next to the bed. 

"It appears you were hit by two curses on that day on the train," he began, shuffling his notes. "One of them was a Confundus curse, courtesy of Ms. Granger. That one hit you directly. The second was Furnunculus, cast by Mr. Potter." He looked down at the pages and frowned before continuing. "Because five separate curses were cast at the same time, the quotient of magical energy in the air was very, very high. As a result, Mr. Potter's curse fractured, the reflected portion hitting you, while a weaker version of the pure form hit Mr. Crabbe." 

"A reflected Furnunculus?" Madame Pomfrey repeated, alarmed. "Oh, dear..." Severus nodded sagely. 

"Sorry, what?" Draco asked. The two adults turned to look at him and he gave a sheepish smile. "I'm crap at charms," he explained. 

Severus smirked a little and shook his head, then grew more serious. "Reflected curses are those that, for various reasons, do not directly hit their targets and, in fact, bounce off. The killing curse used on Mr. Potter as a child by The Dark Lord actually reflected off of him. Thus, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was hit by the reflection, it transformed him into a kind of energy, or so I understand. The original curse gets altered, perverted into something else, usually the primitive form of the spell which is no longer used." 

"So," Draco said slowly, trying to understand all this information through his pounding head, "a primitive version of the killing curse left you mostly dead, but slightly alive, and that's what hit The Dark Lord because of the reflection off of Potter." 

"Correct," Severus said, proud of his student. "Very good, Draco." 

"But my reflection was caused by the high magical quotient in the area." Severus nodded. "What I don't understand is, if I got hit by a Furnunculus curse, which causes boils, why didn't I just break out in hives or something," Draco asked. "Why would I be getting these weird dreams?" 

"You really are crap at charms, Draco," said Severus. 

Draco grinned. "I'm too busy studying for potions," he said. Severus smiled. 

"The primitive version of the Furnunculus curse didn't cause skin conditions," Madame Pomfrey explained. "It used to be called a 'Thief Charm,' I believe." 

Draco decided he didn't like the sound of that. He vaguely remembered a trip with his father to Knockturn alley where it was made very clear to him that he would not be permitted to pursue a career in petty theft. "I'm going to turn into a kleptomaniac?" he asked, worriedly. 

"Not like a thief who steals objects," Severus hastened to explain. "It's more like you're stealing magical power." 

"I'm stealing magic from people?" Draco _really_ didn't like the sound of that. 

"Not at all," Madame Pomfrey said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Rather, you're probably tapping into the latent magical power around you. You'll probably find that spells are easier for you to cast and the power behind your spells will be stronger." She gave him a small knowing grin and winked. "You may even bring up your Charms grade." Draco allowed himself a small chuckle, though he was still worried. 

"So I have a power-up," Draco said, trying to grasp everything. "I still don't understand what this has to do with my dreams." 

Severus sighed. "As I mentioned earlier, reflected spells are easily altered by outside magic. From what I can guess, the Confundus curse used on you my Ms. Granger changed it further. Confundus curse has the effect of opening up your mind, making you more aware of things you may not otherwise notice. That's what causes the confusion that results. Too many things are hitting you at once and your brain can't cope with all of it." 

"That much, at least, I remember from class," Draco mused. 

"The sum of it is, I believe the combination of the two curses resulted in you becoming more sensitive to the world around you," Severus said. "Things you may not have considered before are attacking you with stunning clarity and it's reflected in your dreams as a result. The remnants of the pure Confundus curse have remained, making it more difficult for you to recover from one of these nightmares." 

"Okay..." Draco replied. He looked straight at his teacher. "How do we fix this?" 

Severus and Madame Pomfrey exchanged a quick glance, something Draco _really, really_ didn't like. 

"We don't," Severus said bluntly. At Draco's distressed expression, he added, "At least, I don't think we can. I may be just a matter of control, Draco. Your mind has been forced open and is still trying to adjust. As time goes by, you should get better at blocking out things you don't like or need. I have some contacts in Bulgaria who know more about this. I'll have to get in touch with them." 

"But I don't feel any different, aside from the obvious," Draco protested. "I don't feel like I'm taking in more than usual." 

"You wouldn't feel it, dear," Madame Pomfrey said gently. "Your mind is filtering it to protect you when you're awake. It's when you're asleep that everything starts coming at you." 

Draco angrily shook his head. "I can't wait for my mind to 'adjust,'" he said. "I need to sleep now!" 

"That's why I brought you this." Severus reached into his robes and retrieved a small phial filled with a greenish, thin liquid. "It will make it so the sleep that you do manage to get will be more beneficial. I use it myself when I'm working on a long-term potion project. As your body gets more rest, you should be able to throw off the rest of the Confundus curse and then focus on dealing with your new abilities." He handed the phial to Draco, who uncorked it with a 'pop' and swallowed it down without hesitation. 

"Yuck," he grimaced, licking his lips and handing the empty container back to his teacher. "Do I even want to know what this is made of?" 

"Oh, believe me, Draco, you'll know," said Severus, a wicked smile on his face. "The effects should last at least a week. That's plenty of time for me to teach you to brew it yourself. I certainly don't have time to do it for you when I have so many other projects up in the air at once." 

"Great," Draco replied wryly, though inside, he was thrilled at the prospect at learning a new potion. "So I can sleep now?" he asked, looking from teacher to nurse, hopeful. 

"I should say so," Severus said, standing up. "The dreams are the result of your perceptions and shouldn't cause you any injury, physically at least. Mentally..." The Potion Master shrugged. "You're on your own." 

"Thanks," Draco said dryly. "You're concern is touching." 

"You're welcome," Severus replied in kind. He looked down at his watch and frowned. "I have to go tend the Wolfsbane again," he said, muttering something bad about werewolves under his breath. Draco smiled and settled down in bed, Madame Pomfrey standing up as well and gathering the playing cards that were still scattered there. 

"We're just lucky there wasn't any transfer," remarked the nurse. Draco stiffened and sat up, looking back at the adults. 

"Transfer?" he asked. 

"Yes," Madame Pomfrey said with a frown. "Sometimes, reflected spells result in a transfer, or a kind of mental connection, forming between caster and the one who is afflicted with the reflected spell. This is because reflected spells are a kind of wild magic, not very well understood. I know it happened to Mr. Potter and The Dark Lord." She shook her head. "Causes him no end of trouble, the poor dear." 

"Luckily, from what you've told me, this doesn't seem to have occurred in your case," Severus remarked, overlooking Madame Pomfrey's use of the phrase "poor dear" in respect to Mr. Potter. He chuckled darkly. "Imagine having to share a mental connection with that boy." 

"Yeah," Draco said, giving a weak, forced laugh, "imagine that." 

"Goodnight, Draco," Severus said, reaching down to pat his head. "I look forward to seeing you bright-eyed and alert tomorrow." 

"Right, Severus," Draco replied, lying back down, trying to force the knot in his stomach to untie. "Goodnight." Severus gave him a quick nod, then turned and left the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey patted his cheek once, then cast a quick spell to dim the lights in the room before walking over to her desk to finish up some additional work. 

Draco lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the nurse's quill scratch across a piece of parchment, having a whole new reason not to want to go to sleep. 

Neither he nor the nurse heard the door to the Hospital Wing quietly open and close, apparently of its own accord. 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: *I had to go web surfing to come up with some cute phobias for the beginning of this chapter:   
Agyrophobia - Fear of crossing the street   
And just for the heck of it:   
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words   
Isn't that great?   
Also, "mostly dead, slightly alive" is a homage to The Princess Bride. What? You've never read the book or seen the movie? Shame on you!   
Note on the reflected Furnunculus (boils) becoming somekind of magic speed spell: Furnunculus is related to the Latin Furunculus (missing the first "n"), which means "thief." Got that from the Lexicon as well as my Latin-English dictionary.   
Thanks for reading! Review if you wish! 


	6. Chapter Five

A/M: Thanks to Carmilla de Lestace, Draco Malfoy N Harry Potter, seana, chrisseee667, Whisp, Reviewer Person, Azzie, KT, quool, and AmZ for reviewing! I really appreciate you guys taking the time to do so. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! 

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter V

  


Harry stared at his oatmeal, watching the top layer slowly dry out, the blueberries he'd poured on it earlier gradually dying his breakfast blue. Around him, the Great Hall was noisy as usual, but the Gryffindor table was strangely subdued. Most of them had seen the points board this morning and nearly had coronaries at the sudden drop in status, yet no one was sure why. The older one's knew the last time this happened, it involved a few arrogant first years who were now fifth years. While there were suspicions this was the case once again, no one voiced them. Harry Potter was much more than a name to them these days. 

Harry pushed his breakfast away, his stomach churning. After Ron said he'd wished Draco would drop dead, Harry had fled up the stairs and grabbed his invisibility cloak, determined to find the Slytherin at any cost, just to be sure he was all right. At first, he didn't know where to go, but decided to start out by heading towards the dungeon. Professor Snape nearly plowed into him as the man rushed up the stairs, an urgency in his steps that set off warning bells in Harry's mind. He followed the older man to the Hospital Wing and breathed a sigh of relief as the one who'd been plaguing his dreams was sitting calmly, playing cards with the Nurse, and not at all dead. 

What he'd heard shortly after caused the relief to vanish from his system and be instantly replaced with an all consuming dread. 

Connected. To Draco Malfoy. And it was all his fault. 

The dreams weren't his dreams at all! They'd been Draco's and Harry was just an observer. That's why he couldn't move, that's why he couldn't help. Would he be forced to live through this every night? Was it part of the punishment for casting the broken spell that altered Draco's mind that he got to suffer through the nightmarish consequences? 

Draco's life had metamorphosed. He had new abilities, new gifts, and he was no longer normal. His perception had changed forever. He was tied to Harry forever. 

And it was all his fault. 

Harry felt like crying. 

"So..." Seamus said, trying to break the tense silence, "Anybody read that article in the Prophet about the new Quidditch regulations proposed by the Magical Sports and Activities Committee?" He looked over at Ron, hoping for a response, but the redhead continued to sit very still, staring at the wood grain on the table. Hermione hadn't come to breakfast at all, and Seamus, who had received his share of "Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day" lectures from the bushy-haired prefect, thought this was very odd and disturbing. Ron stood up suddenly and walked out of the Hall, never saying a word. Seamus and Dean exchanged a look. 

"Harry," Dean began. The bespectacled boy looked up, his eyes filled with exhaustion. Dean swallowed. "Harry, what happened?" 

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reflexively running a hand along his forehead. "We're in trouble," he said simply. 

"We figured as much after seeing the points this morning," Seamus said, looking like he'd bitten into a particularly foul-tasting Bernie Bott's bean. Harry nodded. 

"Remember when we cursed Draco and his friends on the train at the end of last year?" he asked. 

"Sure do," Seamus chortled. "They looked fantastic." 

Harry bit his bottom lip. "Professor Snape found out about it." 

"That little twat snitched on you?" Dean said, his voice rising in anger. "Bloody Hell, why does he always have to run like a little girl for help every time he gets razzed on?" 

"I think it's more serious than that," Harry said softly, trying to keep Dean from getting any louder. 

"Yeah, well, look at him, sitting there like he's so much better than the rest of us," Seamus grumbled. "I just wish he'd get his someday." 

Harry turned around in his seat, not previously aware that Draco had entered the Great Hall, then blinked. 

Draco was facing away from the Gryffindor table. 

* * * * * * 

Draco picked at his breakfast, looking up occasionally to stare at the wall in front of him. It was a different view, he could appreciate that, but he knew the risks associated with keeping one's back turned away from potential enemies. Greg had given him an odd look when he sat down in the bigger boy's chair, but said nothing. Draco's expression clearly radiated a "Leave Me Alone" attitude, so Greg, along with the rest of the Slytherin House did just that. They knew when to respect each other's moods. 

Draco's mind whirled with conflict. Severus would no doubt be instantly aware of his favorite student's continued exhaustion and would want to know why. Should he tell the man about the connection he'd formed with Harry Potter? The plan was so close to fruition - could they risk a security breach with the Gryffindor if Draco's mind slipped in the middle of a nightmare? Severus was right, of course; Gryffindors possessed the most irritating quality of sticking their noses where they didn't belong. If Potter found out what he and the Potions Master had planned, would he interfere, or just stay out of it? Draco knew in his heart that the boy would indeed interfere, generally making a nuisance of himself and no doubt putting the plan at risk. Too much work had gone into it at this point, too many risks had already been taken by those who would suffer dearly if their roles were to be discovered, Draco's own father included among those who stood to lose the most. But if nothing could be done about his connection to Potter, as was plainly obvious to Draco if nothing had been done to break the bond between The Boy Who Lived and The Dark Lord, then was it worth worrying his Godfather about it? 

Draco didn't know. 

Angry words startled Draco out of his revelry. He looked down the table, where some Slytherin seventh-years, led by Bane Relesky, were apparently harassing one of the younger students. 

"Your family is full of cowards," hissed Bane softly. The first-year, Maria, Draco thought her name was, shrank down in her seat, looking anywhere but at the burly boy standing over her. 

Draco looked quickly over at the teacher's table, but none of them seemed to be paying any attention. Severus hadn't even attended breakfast this morning, no doubt still busy with the Wolfsbane potion. He looked back at the altercation occurring so close by, debating whether or not to get involved. 

"I d-don't know what you're talking about," whispered Maria nervously, looking around. Most of the Slytherins had turned their heads away from the scene, either looking at their meals or at nothing at all. 

"The hell you don't," Bane spat. "My father..." 

"Your father is drunken sod with mush for brains," Draco said, almost slapping a hand across his mouth seconds later. Blaise gave him a wild-eyed look of concern and surprise, as did Greg and Vince. Too late to take it back now, Draco thought to himself as Bane walked towards him. Draco rose to his feet. 

"What did you say?" Bane asked. 

"Your hearing dropping with your I.Q?" Draco quipped, then narrowed his eyes. "I know it makes you feel big and tough to pick on little girls who can't fight back, but I won't have you cursing in front of a lady." 

"Why, I oughtta," the bigger boy said with a growl, curling his hands into fists. 

"I don't think so," Draco replied evenly, his voice dangerously low. "Now, you're going to shut your mouth, go sit down, and finish your breakfast." Bane uncurled his fists and took a step back. Draco's voice left no room for compromise and promised a swift and brutal end if one did not comply. Draco could actually see fear in the bigger boy's eyes. 

Bane started to turn away, then paused, pointing an accusatory finger at the blond boy. "I'm watching you, Malfoy," he said angrily, then stomped back to his chair, followed by the rest of his entourage. Draco rolled his eyes and primly retook his seat, lifting up his spoon to stir his oatmeal. 

"They never just leave," he said, giving an exasperated look to his three friends. "They always have to say something." 

"That's bullies for you," Blaise replied with a wry smile. "Vince, pass me the sugar, will you?" 

Vincent, still a bit shell-shocked at the uncharacteristic show of bravery and chivalry displayed by his friend, blinked stupidly at Blaise's request and promptly handed him the salt. Blaise looked down at the salt shaker that had been pressed into his hand, frowning. With a low chuckle, Draco pushed the proper bowl to his friend. 

"Thanks," Blaise said, using a spoon to cover his oatmeal with a fine layer of sugar. 

"Hey, uh, Draco?" asked Greg from where he sat across from him. 

"Yes?" Draco replied with a sigh, hoping he wouldn't have to explain his actions in such a crowded setting. 

Greg said nothing for a moment, looking at a point over Draco's shoulder with deep interest, a spoonful of food halfway to his mouth. "Potter," he said finally. Draco stiffened in his seat. Had they guessed? How could they know? How did... "He really is staring at you," Greg finished, breaking through Draco's worried thoughts. 

"Pardon?" he asked, his mind still filled with panic. 

"Potter is staring at you," Greg said. "He'd been doing it all morning. He's doing it right now." 

Draco turned around and met Harry's eyes. 

This time, neither turned away. 

* * * * * * 

"Now, if any of you managed to brew the potion correctly, which would be a miracle in itself, it should be blue and thin," Professor Snape snapped as he walked around the room, occasionally producing disapproving sounds and making little marks on a parchment in his hand. He stopped and Neville's cauldron, gazing down with a distinct look of disdain. "Mr. Longbottom," he said, his voice icy. "What is the color and consistency of your potion?" 

"Um," Neville began nervously. "R-red? A-a-and a little thick?" A "little thick" was an understatement. The stirring spoon Neville had been using was frozen solid in the potion and no amount of tugging or pushing could make it move. 

Professor Snape closed his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. He looked back at Neville. "Mr. Longbottom, take your cauldron off of the fire before the damn thing explodes!" he growled and the boy hurried to comply. Shaking his head with disgust, the teacher walked on. He moved straight past Ron, Hermione, and Harry, not saying a word, not looking at their potions. Harry watched as he walked by, the knot of apprehension in his chest getting tighter with every passing minute. Why wasn't he yelling at them? It seemed as if the meeting they'd had the day before never occurred. Professor McGonagall certainly hadn't met with the three of them yet. The silence worried Harry, as did the waiting. 

Snape stopped over at the Slytherin side of the room, allowing a small smile of satisfaction as he checked Draco's potion. "The rest of you could stand to learn something from Mr. Malfoy," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "His potion is perfectly concocted. Ten points to Slytherin." Draco smiled. 

The chime signifying the end of the period echoed through the room and everyone began to shuffle around, cleaning up their potion supplies and putting the room back in order. "Your scrolls on the Identitus Potion are due tomorrow. I expect them to perfect with full bibliographies. Anyone not turning in their scroll will receive a detention and points from their house," Snape said as he moved back to the front of the room. "Now, all of you get out of my classroom." 

Harry rushed to get out of the room as did Hermione and Ron. Picking up his book-bag, he was about to leave when Snape's voice stopped him. 

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, a moment," he called to them. He also nodded to Draco, who held back as well, waiting patiently by his desk. "Now," Snape said to the gathered students, "the three of you will first apologize to Mr. Malfoy for your actions on the train at the end of last term." Ron looked as though he might protest but a sharp look from the Professor stilled him. 

"Sorry, Malfoy," he muttered. Hermione nodded in agreement. 

Harry looked at Draco, who met his eyes easily, then took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Draco," he said, his apology truly heartfelt. Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Snape nodded, pleased with the apologies. 

"As you may have surmised, I have not yet spoken with Professor McGonagall regarding your behavior," said the Potions Master. Hermione was shaking. "Make no mistake, I will be doing so shortly. Your detentions start this evening. You three, plus your two brothers, Mr. Weasly, will report to Mr. Filch's office. He will find something suitably unpleasant for you to do. The rest of your punishment will be worked out with the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, and myself." 

"Please, Professor," Hermione whispered, her voice wavering. It was the first words she'd spoken all day. "Please, it was just a stupid mistake. I know we shouldn't have cursed them, but it was in the heat of the moment and we weren't thinking clearly." She looked over at Draco, who stared back at her impassively. "He doesn't look like he suffered any permanent injury and we acknowledge our mistakes. Please, don't take Harry and Ron off the Quidditch team. Please, don't take away my prefect status!" 

"The rest of your punishment will be discussed later," Snape said slowly, not at all impressed with Hermione's hopeful begging. "You three can go." He turned away from the Gryffindors, walking over to his desk and looking through the parchments on his desk. Hermione and Ron shuffled out of the room, but Harry waited, turning to meet Draco's eyes once again. 

Does he know? Harry wondered. Does Draco know what's happened to him? Does he know we're sharing dreams? 

Almost imperceptibly, Draco nodded at his unvoiced questions. Harry took a step back in shock. A thought filled his head, one that didn't belong to him. We'll meet later, it said. We'll meet later and figure out what to do. Don't tell anyone. Harry reached back and grabbed the edge of the table behind him, feeling dizzy. 

"This isn't happening," Harry said softly. Professor Snape whirled around and glared at the Gryffindor. 

"Why are you still here, Mr. Potter?" he said harshly. Harry looked at his professor, having momentarily forgotten he was still in the room. "Leave! Now!" Harry spun around and ran out of the room. The Professor shook his head, then turned to look at his Godson. 

"It did work," Draco said, cutting off the questions he knew were coming. "The potion worked fine. I know I look tired, but I'm just recovering still." 

"Are you positive?" Severus asked him gently. Draco gave him a little smile. 

"Absolutely," he assured the older man. Severus reached out and clasped Draco's shoulder briefly, content with his answer. Draco squashed the guilty feeling settling in his gut at hiding his connection with Potter from him. 

"Good," said Severus. "Tomorrow night, I'll start teaching you how to brew it yourself. You should have no problems learning it." 

Draco nodded, then frowned. He turned his head, looking briefly in the direction of the departed Gryffindors. "Why haven't you told Professor McGonagall about them yet?" he asked. 

Severus ran a hand through his greasy hair. "I'm trying to decide how much I want to tell her and the Headmaster. They're Gryffindors, both of them. They might start asking too many questions." 

"You don't like leaving them in the dark, do you?" Draco asked, worriedly. 

"No, I don't." Severus walked away from Draco, running a hand over a nearby lab table, checking to see if his students had done an adequate cleaning job. He frowned. They didn't, as usual. "But I can understand your father's wish to keep this secret," he said, looking back at his student. "I remember what it was like when I was in school." 

"Do you think it will get that bad again?" Draco already knew the answer, but he felt like he needed to voice the question anyway. He started to pick at the sleeve of his robe, but stopped himself, the voice of his Etiquette Coach shouting in his head. 

"It will be worse," Severus said darkly. "It will be much worse." 

Draco started to pick at his sleeve anyway. "You weren't at breakfast." 

"No, I was stuck at my cauldron all morning," came the reply. Severus noted Draco's expression, his eyes darkening. "Something happened." 

"Tensions are starting to rise." Draco sighed, hopping up to sit on the lab table behind him. "Bane Relesky harassed a first year right in the middle of the Great Hall. He didn't care who heard him." 

"And?" Severus asked, closing his eyes briefly and raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. 

"And..." Draco hedged, "I defused the situation." 

Severus sighed and glared at his student. "Draco, you are supposed to be keeping a low profile. If anyone discovers what going on, you could be putting yourself, as well as others, at great risk!" 

"He doesn't suspect anything more than usual," said Draco, sliding off the table, hurriedly reassuring his teacher. "You know what he's like, all hat and no cattle. Nobody listens to a thing he says anyway. The plan isn't in danger." 

"For the sake of everyone involved, I hope not," Severus said. "Still, it might be best to step things up." 

Draco nodded. "I agree." 

"I have to finish the Wolfsbane potion before I can solely turn my attentions to this matter," Severus replied, his mind rolling with potion schedules and timetables. "I think we should target early November." 

"Should I speak with my father, or you?" Draco asked. 

"I will. I have to speak with him anyway. Speaking of which..." Severus walked around his desk, digging through one of the many drawers. "Ah, here it is!" From the depths of the desk, Severus removed a small, cloth-wrapped bundle, then walked back to Draco and handed it to him. 

"What's this?" Draco asked, unwrapping it. Inside the bundle was a palm-sized gray stone, small flecks of silver glittering in the dim light of the room. "A Gillipsee Stone?" he asked, looking surprised at his teacher. 

"You're father gave it to me to give to you when I visited the Manor a few weeks ago. He said to use it as a last resort. I assume you know what it's used for," Severus said mildly. 

"Well, yes ," Draco replied, "of course I do! Does this mean...?" 

"I think you should consider it," said the professor. "Any cloth should do, but choose carefully - the stone can only be used once." 

"Do you think I can do the charms necessary for it?" Draco asked, skeptical. 

Severus smiled. "I think you can now." 

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but paused, remembering the effects of his reflected curse. "I suppose I can," Draco agreed, pocketing the stone. He looked back at his teacher, his tired eyes shinning with gratitude. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Severus said. "Now, don't you have somewhere to be?' 

"Lunch," Draco replied. 

"Go. Enjoy it," Severus told him with a wave of his hands. "And no more random acts of bravery during meals." 

"Yes, sir," Draco said, giving a tiny mock salute before walking out of the room, dipping his hand in his pocket to clutch the cool stone. 

Draco smiled. A Gillipsee Stone, one of the rarest items in the known world, and the key component in the charm needed to create invisibility cloaks. "Just what I always wanted," Draco mused, laughing quietly. 

It was almost enough to make him forget about the silent conversation he'd had with Potter moments earlier. 

Almost. 

* * * * * * 

The day passed uneventfully. Harry was on edge, expecting the sky to fall any minute, waiting for Professor McGonagall to swoop down on them, and the moment when he would have to meet Headmaster Dumbledore's disappointed eyes. 

It never happened. 

Harry sat on his bed, dressed in his favorite pajamas, curtains closed around him. He held his hands out palm-up, looking at the surface of the appendages, not liking the odd green tint they'd taken on. No amount of scrubbing in the bathroom had managed to get the stain of the metal polish he'd been forced to use off his skin, as he'd spent the past four hours polishing suits of armor in the hallways. The task wasn't made any easier by the fact that every time you turned your back, the armor would run off, not enjoying the sensation of being polished. Filch said it was because it tickled. 

Afterwards, Quidditch practice was a spectacular failure. Ron, their new Keeper, couldn't block a Quaffle to save his life, and Harry, who was supposed to be fulfilling his role as Team Captain, couldn't even stay focused long enough to keep his broom flying in a straight line. The team called it quits after only forty minutes, then went their separate ways, grumbling and mumbling angrily. The Ravenclaw game was only two days away and their chances of winning didn't look stellar. 

All in all, it hadn't been a very good day. 

Harry collapsed back on the bed, extinguishing the tiny ball of light floating above him with a wave of his wand, then stuffed it underneath his pillow so it could be easily reached in case of emergency. Next, he plucked his glasses off his face, he depositing them on a shelf mounted on the wall next to his bed. Rolling on to his side, he closed his eyes and hoped he would dream. 

He did need to talk to Draco, after all. 

* * * * * * 

Draco stood quietly in the garden, waiting with apprehension for the predictable approach of his nightly killers. He felt he should be used to this by now, but he wasn't. True to form, several heavily cloaked figures apparated not three feet away, rushing together as one, cold hands propelling him back. His legs hit a stone ledge and the sound of running water filled his ears and he was pushed backwards into a large fountain, the Death Eaters trying to force his head under the water. He fought back as best he could, clawing at the men, managing to get his head above water for a few seconds, life-giving air filling his lungs. His eyes darted around, looking for someone who should be near-by. 

And there he was. 

Potter, a few steps away, watched the scene as he always did, seemingly unable to help. This time, Draco knew exactly what to do. 

"Potter! Get your ass over here!" he sputtered before being dunked once again into the cold, clear water. He tried not to gasp as the hands continued to push his head back, bending his spine in a manner that simply wasn't natural. Without warning, just as his vision started to dim, the hands disappeared and were replaced by one sure fist, clutching the collar of his shirt and dragging him from the fountain, dropping him limply on the grass. Draco coughed the water out of his lungs, wiping at his stinging eyes with the back of his hands, body shaking with chill and adrenaline. 

"You okay?" Harry asked him, sounding slightly winded. 

"In a minute," Draco managed to reply, still choking a bit. 

"Right," said Harry, looking nervous, picking at the hem of his oversized t-shirt. "Well, I think we should talk, because you said we needed to talk, although you really didn't say that, you thought it at me, which, I have to say, is a little unnerving, so can we not do that anymore? And I guess, here we are, though we aren't actually here because 'here' is just a dream so we're really nowhere and..." 

"Potter! Stop babbling!" Draco snapped, sitting up, taking a few deep breaths just to make sure he could. 

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "This is kind of new to me." 

"Yeah, and I'm old hat at it," Draco replied wryly. "And yes, Potter, we do need to talk. This happens to be the best place to do it. No one can hear us, after all." Harry nodded, then stopped, looking around. 

"Where are we?" he asked. "The last few dreams were at Hogwarts. I don't recognize this place." 

The two boys were sitting at the base of an ornate fountain, located not far from a beautiful castle. It reminded Harry of the castle he'd once seen in the Disney version of Cinderella, all white marble and beautiful turrets. The fountain was apparently located in the middle of an intricate garden, highlighted with rare flowers and plants that Harry didn't know by name. The flowers filled the air with a fragrant scent, very calming and pleasant. Small flashing lights hovered above the plants, creating a rainbow of colors as they blinked in and out. Harry squinted closely, then realized with a bit of shock that the lights were actually small fairies, fluttering among the bushes and shrubs, a soft humming sound, all in perfect harmony, coming from their rapid wing beats. The layout of the garden and the land surrounding it could only be described as stunning. 

"Father's gardens," Draco replied, shaking Harry from his awe. Draco nodded at the castle. "That's the Manor." 

"This is where you grew up?" Harry asked, incredulous. 

"What did you expect?" Draco looked at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't know," he admitted. "Dragons maybe, guarding the gate. A big moat filled with sea monsters, a creepy old castle covered in cobwebs and curses, maybe a swamp?" 

Draco laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you, Potter. No, what you see is what you get." The Slytherin turned his head, looking towards the massive castle. "On the far side of the Manor are the stables," he said out of the blue. "We keep some Nightmares there." 

"Nightmares?" Harry looked confused and Draco struggled not to laugh again. 

"A kind of demon horse," he explained. "They're completely black and completely silent when they move, their eyes burning fiery red. One of my Ancestors summoned the original herd before my family had to flee France during the revolution. Only a few could be brought with us, so my Mother has made it her personal project to try to reinstate the herd on our lands." 

"Demon Horses?" Harry asked, eyes going wide. 

Draco shrugged. "They actually have very good temperaments. If we were to head over there, you could probably see a dream version of Melpomene, my favorite girl. She's one of the very few things I miss when I'm stuck at Hogwarts." Draco sighed at the memory and actually looked wistful to Harry's eyes, which struck him as odd. 'Wistful' wasn't an emotion Harry would have ever thought to associate with his rival. Draco, suddenly aware that he might be appearing soft, hardened his expression and turned back to face Harry. "So," he began, "we need to talk." 

"Right," Harry agreed. 

Silence filled the air. 

To be continued.... 

A/N: Finally, we're getting closer to some Harry/Draco action and I leave you hanging! *laughs wickedly* God, it's fun to be Evil!  
Death by Fountain? That's a homage to "The Sentinel," implicative of a scene that launched a thousand slash fics. Jim/Blair... *sighs happily*  
"Melpomene" is the Greek Muse of Tragedy. No, this isn't foreshadowing (aside from the death scenes, this is going to be a relatively light-hearted fic... kinda), I just think it's a cool name.  
I didn't mean for the last scene to be quite so reminiscent of the last scene of the Buffy episode, "Hush." It just came out that way. *shrugs*  
Thanks again for reading! Review if you wish! 


	7. Chapter Six

A/N: Thanks to curlytwirl, Seana Nichole, friend, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, DragonMage, Whisp, kerstin-vol,and londoncherry for reviewing! I appreciate your support and interesting comments! Here's chapter six! Enjoy!

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter VI

A gentle breeze blew across the lands surrounding the Malfoy Manor, sweeping Draco's hair into his face, a long, blond tendril tickling his nose. He brushed it away quickly with one hand, tucking the strand behind his ear. Harry cleared his throat, shifting around a little from where he sat on the ground next to the Slytherin, then fidgeted some more, picking at the grass. Draco spared him a short glance, but Harry looked away, his eyes tracing one of the many garden paths leading into the hedge maze. Draco sighed. 

"You know, I think in order for this whole, 'we need to talk' thing to work, somebody really needs to say something," he offered, still staring at Harry. The Gryffindor finally looked at him, chewing a little on his bottom lip. 

"Yeah, I guess we do," Harry agreed. He stared at Draco some more, waiting for him to start. The Slytherin was apparently not being very forth coming. "You should go first," Harry said. "I mean, it was your idea to talk." 

"Fine," came Draco's exasperated reply. "So, you know what's going on, correct?" 

"Yeah." Harry started to pick at the grass again, but Draco quickly grabbed his hand in his own, stopping the movement. 

"Cut that out," he said, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Harry's blush as the taller boy looked intently down where their hands connected. "And say, 'Yes,' not, 'Yeah.' Good Lord, Potter, were you raised in a barn or something?" 

"A cupboard, actually," Harry snapped, pulling his hand away from Draco's, irritated with the boy's condescending attitude. Draco raised an eyebrow, but let the comment pass. 

"At any rate," he continued, "you know about the reflected spell." 

"_Yes_," Harry said peevishly, drawing out the 's' at the end. Draco nodded, an action which only made Harry more annoyed. 

"How did you find out about it?" Draco asked. "Was it something you and your friends put together with the dreams?" 

Harry shook his head. "No. I kinda overheard you talking with Snape and--" 

"'Kind of,'" Draco interrupted, "and '_Proffesor_ Snape.'" 

Harry ground his teeth, resisting the urge to throttle the smaller boy. "Fine! I _kind of_ overheard you talking with _Proffesor_ Snape and _Madame_ Pomfrey when you were in the hospital wing." 

"I didn't see you there." Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Well, I was invisible at the time, obviously," he snapped. 

"Obviously," Draco remarked dryly, hiding his curiosity with great skill. "Well, since you know about the spell, then you know about the bond between us, and you know there is nothing we can do about it." 

"I know." Harry looked back at the ground, his face filled with remorse. 

"And it is all your fault, of course," Draco finished, smirking a little. 

"Ugh! I KNOW!" Harry shouted, reaching up a hand to pull at his hair. "You don't have to remind me! God, for someone so beautiful, you can be such an ASS!" 

Draco looked up at Harry, startled, who looked back at him, apparently just as shocked by what he'd said. A small laugh settled in around Draco's chest, but he wasn't sure if he should let it out. Was this funny? It felt like a joke. At the same time, Harry started to look as though he'd like to dig a large hole in the ground and crawl in it, so maybe it wasn't a joke at all. 

"Ah," Draco finally managed. "So, this opens a whole other barrel, now then doesn't it?" Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands. "I guess it does," Draco finished. 

"It's just this... dream... stuff!" Harry replied after a moment, his voice muffled by his hands. He looked up a Draco, waving a hand in his general direction. "I mean, look at you! You don't ever look like this in real life! This is all some funky perception of yourself and it's messing me up!" 

Draco gave himself the once over and shrugged. "I don't look any different, as near as I can tell." Harry gave him a very pointed look. 

"Since when do you wear leather?" he asked moodily, gesturing to Draco's pants. "And that shirt is so tight, it might as well be painted on. Let's not forget to mention your hair, all long and... shiny." 

"Well, you've just obviously never seen me without my robes on," Draco replied easily, getting real delight out of watching the Gryffindor squirm. He reached up a hand to run through his long, blond hair, pulling down a piece from the top, crossing his eyes a little to look at it. "Plus, my hair has always been this shiny." He flipped the strand back and gazed at Harry impassively, who was currently giving him a strange look. "What?" Draco asked. 

Harry blinked slowly before responding. "You wear leather pants under your robes?" 

Draco smirked. "Wanna find out?" 

"'Want to,'" Harry corrected. "Not 'wanna.'" Draco shot him an amused glare. 

"Ass." 

Harry smiled. 

* * * * * * 

"Pinch of powdered marrow root," Severus muttered, tossing the powder into the bubbling cauldron, the mixture turning from a volatile red color to crystal clear, the liquid smoking slightly. "And forty minutes at boil." He turned up the heat then sighed in satisfaction, running a hand over his tired eyes. It was his longest break yet since he'd started working on the Wolfsbane potion. Too bad he had to grade some papers written by his startlingly inept students. 

"Severus!" 

The Potions Master jumped, nearly knocking over the cauldron in front of him. He steadied the concoction, then spun around, glaring eyes filled with fury. "Dammit, woman, don't you ever knock?" he growled. 

Professor McGonagall glared back at him, completely unfazed by his anger. 

"Explain yourself, Severus!" she barked. 

"I'm too tired to play guessing games tonight." Severus rubbed at his eyes, then walked past the irate woman, back into his main study. "Tell me what's ticked you off so I can get on with my life!" 

"Oh, don't pretend you don't know," Minerva snapped, her high-heeled shoes clicking on the stone floor as she followed him. "I know you like to disfavor my House, but honestly Severus, seven hundred and fifty points?!? Not to mention the fact that the entire House is up in arms, rumors flying about that half of my Quidditch team may not be allowed to play in the game the day after tomorrow! Now tell me what's going on!" 

Severus collapsed in his chair, trying to ward off the headache he could feel building behind his eyes. "It's complicated and needs to be fully discussed with you, the Headmaster, and myself," he told the older woman, meeting her eyes with some difficulty. When she got snippy like this, he often had flashbacks to when he was in her class. It could be very unnerving. "I'll arrange a meeting with him for us tomorrow. For now, you'll simply have to trust me that the punishment more than fits the crime committed by those five." 

"It's so petty of you, Severus," Minerva continued ranting, "trying to sabotage my Quidditch team all the time." 

"I don't give a damn about Quidditch!" Severus exclaimed, leaping from his chair and slamming his hands down on his desk. Minerva took a startled step backwards, surprised at his outburst. "There are far more important things at stake! Your _precious_ little Gryffindors are living in some kind of fantasy world! They have no regard for the consequences of their actions!" 

"Since you're being so unreasonable, I suppose we will have to discuss this with the Headmaster tomorrow," Minerva huffed after recovering from her initial shock. She looked shrewdly down at the large stack of ungraded papers littering the Potions Master's desk. "You obviously have quite a bit of work to do." 

"So kind of you to notice," Severus replied dryly, retaking his seat and pulling the first paper off the stack. Minerva sniffed and turned on her heel, stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

"Bitch," Severus muttered, then picked up his red-ink quill and got to work. 

* * * * * * 

Harry walked quickly, trying to keep up with the fast moving blond as he skillfully navigated his way along the Manor grounds, the only light coming from the half-filled moon, the pale glow barely showing the way. 

"Will you slow down?" Harry asked. Draco glanced back, but kept moving. 

"I don't know how long this dream will last. I could wake up at any minute." He jumped nimbly over a tree stump in the path, Harry nearly falling on his face. "We might not get back to the Manor again and there's a few things I'd like to show you." Harry rolled his eyes, but managed to keep the pace. 

"Here," Draco said, stopping short, Harry slamming ungracefully into his back. Draco looked back at the taller boy and smiled. "What do you think?" 

"What do I think about..." Harry started, then stopped, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. "Wow." 

"My thoughts exactly," Draco said, looking out on the large field before them. 

There were horses, maybe twenty or so, Harry couldn't tell for sure. They were hard to see, their rich black coats blending in with the night around them. They pranced along the field, soundless in their movements, their red glowing eyes shinning like beacons in the dark. Two small colts moved close to them as they played, forelegs rising in the air as they pushed each other about. Harry felt a smile tugging at his lips, delighted at the apparent joy and freedom the horses obviously felt as they ran about the field, no fences keeping them bound. 

"So these are the Nightmares," Harry stated. Draco nodded. "They're beautiful." 

"'Demon' doesn't always mean 'bad.'" Draco turned, giving Harry a pointed looked. "Neither does Malfoy." 

Harry looked down at Draco's eyes and nodded. "I'm getting that." He looked up again, then pointed behind Draco's shoulder. "One of them is coming over here." Draco turned back around. 

"That's Mel." He walked over to the large mare, who shook her head silently and nuzzled Draco's neck, her hot breath making little puffs of steam in the air. Draco patted her back, then gave Harry an odd, but very appealing, smile. 

"Want to take a ride?" he asked. 

Harry took the double entendre for what it was and couldn't say 'yes' fast enough. 

* * * * * * 

Ron tossed and turned in his bed before letting out a sigh of resignation, throwing off his covers and sitting up. Neville's snoring sounded louder than usual to Ron's tired ears and he barely resisted the urge to throw a pillow in his general direction. Instead, he pulled back his curtains, sliding out of bed, knowing sleep was a long way off. Walking as softly as he could manage, he tiptoed over to Harry's bed, lifting the curtain, hoping his usually insomniatic friend was also awake. Ron frowned, looking down at Harry. 

He actually had a ~smile~ on his face, looking oddly peaceful and happy. Harry was known for terror-filled nights, You-Know-Who, Dementors, and such usually driving him to fits halfway through his sleep. It would figure the one night Ron couldn't sleep, Harry seemed to be having a very nice dream. 

Squashing down the selfish urge to shake his friend awake, Ron let the curtain fall back into place, then walked out of the dorm room, deciding to crash out in the common room until morning. Skipping over the trick step, he walked into the room, blinking at the bright light hitting his eyes. 

Fred and George were already camped out in the room, the fire burning brightly in the grate. They looked up as Ron entered, nodding as one, silently offering him a place on the long sofa next to them. Ron gratefully sat down, watching the flames dance in their stone home, pleased that he wasn't the only one awake, but annoyed that he was awake at all. 

"So," he began, "you guys couldn't sleep either?" 

"Nope," George said. "The waiting is..." 

"... really driving us crazy," Fred finished. 

"I know what you mean," Ron agreed, used to the twinspeak. "I mean, if Snape wants to get us, why doesn't he just do it already?" 

Fred and George shrugged together, not having an answer. Ron let out a moody sigh. 

"This sucks," Ron said after a moment. 

"It sure does," replied twins. The three of them fell silent, watching the fire dance until morning. 

* * * * * * 

Harry let out a tiny laugh as Draco pulled Melpomene out of her gallop, his hands tightening around the smaller boy's waist as the Nightmare fell into a trot, then stopped, overlooking a high cliff, a Muggle town far below in the distance. Harry shook his head, feeling his hair settle back as neat as it ever got. He leaned forward, resting his chin on Draco's shoulder, a little breathless. 

"That was wonderful," he said simply. "I have to get one of these." 

Draco chuckled, leaning back into Harry's embrace, his eyes on the town. "She's a fine horse," he agreed, "very easy to control." 

"What's that?" Harry asked, nodding his head in the direction of the town. 

"Ffestiniog," Draco replied. "It used to be a slate quarry town, part of the country Gwynedd before becoming part of Wales. The Manor is actually located in the Snowdonia National Park." 

"I'm surprised you live so close to Muggles," Harry remarked. Draco shrugged. 

"Funny thing about Muggles - they're everywhere." He twisted around in Harry's arms and met his eyes, giving him a brief smile. "They can't see the Manor, or us, or anything that happens there. I suspect some of them know we're here, but they can't be bothered to do anything about it. We leave them alone, they leave us alone. It's worked for over two-hundred years." Draco shrugged again, then turned back forwards, nudging Melpomene around to make their way back towards the Manor at a slow gait. 

"It must have been amazing, growing up here," Harry said as the horse skillfully navigated the rocky ground. 

"I suppose," Draco replied. "I didn't get to leave the Manor much as a child - I rarely spent anytime on the grounds." Harry blinked in shock. 

"What? Why?" he asked. Draco sighed. 

"My father has enemies, Harry." The bigger boy jerked a little at the sound of Draco using his first name, the only time he'd ever heard him do so. "I wasn't allowed to leave my parents' sides, even within the Manor walls. I was warded into my bedroom every night. If ever we had to go anywhere, I had to be accompanied by Mother, Father, or Severus." 

"Severus? Professor Snape?" 

"Well, he is my Godfather, after all," Draco said, glancing back at Harry and giving him a wry smile. The other boy looked positively floored. 

"Your Godfather!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't know that!" 

"Few people do," Draco said with a chuckle. "It's better that way." He grew more serious before continuing. "Remember that day you saw me at the robe shop in Diagon Alley?" he asked. 

Harry snorted. "Of course I do. That was the day I decided I didn't like you." 

Draco smirked. "Yes, well, I should probably apologize for that. You see, that was, I think, the first time my parents had ever left me on my own. They were both off buying the rest of my supplies so we could get out of the city and back to the Manor as quickly as possible. I was frightened." 

"Don't you think your family was over-reacting a bit?" Harry asked him, a little incredulous at what he was hearing. "I mean, what 'enemies' can your family possibly have to produce that kind of reaction?" 

"Oh, let me think," Draco said sarcastically. "The Aurors, the Deatheaters, business associates, Ministry opponents, just to name a few." 

Harry fell silent for a moment. "How did they threaten you?" he finally asked. Draco didn't answer right away. 

"It's not important," Draco said softly. "My family kept me safe and nothing ever happened. Originally, I was supposed to go to Durmstrang, but Mother worried it would be too far away if something were to happen, so I ended up at Hogwarts instead. Plus, Severus is there, so it made my parents feel even more secure about my leaving home." 

"It must have been strange, living like that." Harry reached up a hand and brushed Draco's hair back over his shoulder as the Manor came back into view. Draco led Mel back to the field where the other Nightmares still hung about, then dismounted gracefully off the large animal, giving Harry a hand as he slid off her back. 

"No stranger than living in a cupboard," Draco quipped, patting Mel's hind flank, letting her run back to her herd. "Besides, that's the price you pay for living in high society." 

"Well, at least this explains why Professor Snape got so angry when he found out about us cursing you," Harry replied, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I've never seen him that furious before." 

Draco gave Harry a little grin. "What punishment did he give you, aside from the points taken away, having to apologize to me, and the detentions?" 

"He wants to take away Hermione's prefect status and remove the other four of us from the Quidditch team." Draco nodded, suddenly remembering Hermione's pathetic plea to Severus after she'd sort of apologized to him. "I don't suppose you can convince him to relax the punishment a little?" Harry asked him, eyes hopeful. 

"Not a chance," Draco replied with a shake of his head. "Severus has always been a little high-strung, for good reason. Once he's set his mind on something, it's near impossible to get him to change it. But, the Quidditch issue and Hermione's prefect status will have to be discussed with Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster. Maybe cooler heads will prevail." 

Harry nodded in resignation, knowing that was the best he was going to get, then paused, furrowing his brow. 

"Have you told him about us?" he asked, mildly alarmed. Draco looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. 

"Are you serious?" Draco almost laughed. "That man has enough on his plate to deal with as it is. I'm certainly not going to bother his with something like this, something he can't fix. Besides, he's been so busy making the Wolfsbane potion for Mr. Lupin, it would be cruel to further burden him." 

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Remus is coming to Hogwarts?" he asked loudly. Draco gave a noncommittal shrug. Harry clapped his hands together, resisting the urge to jump up and down. "Do you know if Snuffles is coming with him?" 

"Snuffles?" Draco asked, confused. 

"His dog," Harry clarified. "A big black dog?" 

"I don't know about that," Draco responded, "but I'm sure Sirius Black will be tagging along. Is that who you're referring to?" 

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's..." he stopped, eyes going wide as he looked at Draco. "Wait, what did you say?" 

Draco let out a small laugh at Harry's expression of disbelief. It was a rather cute look for him. "I'm not stupid, Harry," he said. "You think I don't know everything about you and everything about this school? I didn't spend my entire childhood living in constant fear and waiting just to leave myself vulnerable now." 

"Oh, God," Harry said, looking as though he might faint. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?" 

"Of course not," Draco replied with a roll of his eyes. "Give me a little credit." 

"Good," Harry said in guarded relief. He started to say more, but the world around them started to shift dizzily. 

"I think we're starting to wake up," Draco told him. He gazed at Harry, his eyes unreadable. "This has been... nice," he ventured, "being able to talk to you without all the problems that usually accompany it." 

"I suppose it is a good thing we can get along," Harry agreed. 

"We're in this together, whether we like it or not," Draco said. As the world began to dissolve around them, Harry couldn't help but think this might not be such a bad thing. 

He awoke with a smile on his face. 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: Finally, we're getting somewhere! Next chapter: Tensions continue to rise in the Slytherin House, Lucius Malfoy makes an appearance, and the meeting with Dumbledore finally takes place! 

Oh, and Ffestiniog is a real city in Wales. I looked it up, liked the name, checked out some pictures on their travel webpage, http://www.ffestiniog.org.uk , and figured, what the heck? 

Thanks for reading! Review if you wish! 


	8. Chapter Seven

A/N: Thanks to curlytwirl, Maddy, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, mistykasumi, and tulip for reviewing! I appreciate your comments and I can't thank you enough!   
This chapter turned out a lot longer and a lot more political than I intended. Oh, well.. should be fun! We're getting closer to a major plot point. Thanks for reading!

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter VII

Draco was smiling. 

Gregory didn't like it. 

Draco never smiled. He smirked. He glared. He grimaced. Sometimes, when he got really angry, his lips would disappear into a tight line and his eyes would flash. But he never, ever smiled. 

It was disturbing. 

Gregory leaned forward, looking over at Vincent, who was staring at Draco as though the boy had grown two-heads overnight. Gregory leaned forward a little more and caught the eyes of Blaise Zabini, who raised his eyebrows in a question Gregory couldn't answer. The whole morning felt very surreal. Gregory leaned back and looked critically at his friend, trying very hard to understand what exactly was going on. And now, by all that was unholy in the world, Draco was, beyond reason, humming. 

Actually, humming. 

A cheerful, upbeat song. 

Gregory cleared his throat. 

"Uh, Draco?" The boy looked up, his eyes bright and, if Greg wanted to wax poetic, dancing with something that could only be defined as true happiness. 

This was wrong, wrong, wrong. 

"Yes?" he asked, after an over-long silence. Greg cleared his throat again. 

"Is everything okay?" Draco tilted his head a bit and gave his three dormmates a undeniably puzzled look. 

"Of course," he replied. "Why wouldn't it be?" 

"It's just that..." Blaise began, but trailed off and suddenly decided to take Draco's good mood for what it was. "Oh, never mind," he finished, then tackled his breakfast. Draco shrugged, returning to his own food, eating heartily with an appetite never before seen. 

Greg sat back and pushed his food away. 

* * * * * * 

Ron looked over at Harry as they walked down the hall towards class after breakfast had ended, Hermione by his side, and undeniable spring in The Boy Who Lived's steps. All through breakfast, his friend hardly said a word, his gaze rarely on his food or even at the table for that matter, always seeming to be looking at a point just over Ron's shoulder. Ron didn't know why Harry had decided to sit on the other side of the table, facing out into the Great Hall. He knew that Harry preferred to keep his back to the other students so he wouldn't have to meet the curious stares of those who still couldn't accept that THE Harry Potter lived in their midst. This morning, however, he'd briskly walked around the table, taking a seat on the other side, enjoying his breakfast and looking cheerful and well rested. 

"Explain something to me, Harry," Ron finally said with some irritation, just after Harry had started humming some happy little song the redhead didn't recognize. 

"Yes?" Harry asked, looking over at his friend. 

"Today, we are no doubt going to meet our doom in the Headmaster's office, which, need I remind you, will mean the end of our Quidditch days or worse and, yet..." Ron waved his hand in Harry's general direction as though he was swatting a fly. "You seem to be in a ridiculously good mood given what's going on." 

Harry gave a little shrug, flashing a quick smile at Ron. "Sorry about that," he told him, not sounding sorry in the least. "It's just, last night, I had the most wonderful dream!" 

"Dream?" Ron asked. "What the bloody hell about?" 

"It was..." Harry began, but paused, his brow furrowing as he apparently reorganized his thoughts. He made a quick decision, nodding to himself. "There were horses," he finished. 

"Horses?" 

"Horses." 

"Ah." Ron exchanged a confused glance with Hermione, who looked a little alarmed and at a total loss. Harry picked up his pace and the song again, leading the way towards History of Magic without a care in the world. 

* * * * * * 

Draco waited patiently outside of Severus' classroom as the third year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class slowly trickled out. The younger students looked frazzled and unstrung, muttering amongst themselves in hushed tones, complaining about some quiz they had taken that day, which most of them believed they failed. They fell silent as soon as they saw Draco, who smirked, prompting them to hurry past him. Ah, it was something, to inspire true fear in others. Draco was rather fond of that particular gift. 

As soon as all the children were out of sight, Draco stepped easily into the room, pulling his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. The classroom became almost unbearably chilly during the winter months, especially when the cauldron fires were extinguished. Draco cast his eyes about the room, finally finding who he was looking for. 

Severus Snape stood hunched over his desk like a vulture, muttering softly under his breath as he shuffled scrolls and papers, greasy hair falling into his eyes. Dressed in his potion robes, less loose than standard wizarding robes with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows, he made a very imposing figure, the reason for the younger students distress becoming quite clear to Draco. 

Severus was not in a good mood. 

Draco walked forward anyway. 

"Good afternoon!" he said cheerfully, smiling in satisfaction as his godfather jumped a few centimeters in the air in surprise. Drawing himself to his full height, Severus glared down at Draco, his face twisted into a sour expression. 

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he growled. Draco shrugged. 

"Lunch." He jumped up on one of the tables across from the Potions Master's desk, crossing his legs underneath him. 

"And the reason you're here is..." Severus prompted, looking back down at the papers on his desk, arraigning them into neat, little piles. 

"Why not?" Draco asked, then sighed as Severus gave him a Look. "Okay, okay," he began again. "I just came here to tell you that I got a good night's sleep and I think I'm getting the hang of this... perception... thing." 

A look of relief replaced the irritation on Severus face. "No nightmare?" 

"No," Draco said, smiling mildly, his mind far away, "just a wonderful dream." Severus raised an eyebrow. 

"Should I ask what sort of dream, or just continue to live in my fantasy world where you're still four years old and clinging to your mother's robes?" Draco snapped his attention back to his teacher and fixed him with a mellow glance. 

"Not that sort of dream, thank you very much," he replied smoothly. "Though you do realize I'll be fifteen in less than two months." 

"Oh, I realize it," Severus told him firmly. "I just refuse to accept it." 

"You'll have to, someday," Draco said with a laugh. 

"No, I don't," Severus replied seriously. Draco quirked an eyebrow, but let it drop. "Anyway," Severus continued, "I suppose it's a good thing you stopped by." 

"Oh?" Draco asked. 

"Yes." Severus walked around his desk, carrying a large clipboard with him. "Since I am going to be spending the better part of my evening fighting to make our favorite Gryffindors suffer a little for your benefit, then I think it's prudent for you to do something for me." He shoved to clipboard into Draco's unwilling hands, who looked down at the parchments and groaned. 

"Oh, no," Draco complained, his voice pleading. "Not inventory." 

"Your fastidious nature enjoys it, so don't whine," Severus replied smugly. "I need you to go through all the potion components, check labels, compare amounts from the last count and check it against the amount of supplies used throughout the semester thus far, and make recommendations as to what needs to be replaced. That clear?" 

"Crystal," Draco groused, sticking the clipboard into his bookbag. "I'll get started on this tonight." 

"Good," Severus said, turning back to his desk. "Now, why don't you go to lunch." 

"Fine, fine." Draco hopped down from the table and started to make his way towards the door, but stopped, looking over his shoulder. "And I am NOT fastidious. Just neat, that's all," he called back. Severus waved him away in response. Draco smirked, then left. 

* * * * * * 

In his haste to get to the Great Hall before lunch ended, Draco very nearly slammed into an irate redhead who really didn't want to see him at all. Skidding to a stop before the collision could occur, Draco met Ron's angry eyes with ease, raising an eyebrow in amusement at the red tint hitting the taller boy's cheeks. 

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Ron growled and Draco was struggling not to laugh. Behind the angry boy, Harry Potter hovered nervously, seemingly unsure as to what he should be doing. 

"Oh, a lot of things," Draco replied, once he was sure he wouldn't bust out laughing in a very uncultured way. "A summer villa on Martinique, a faster racing broom, a comfortable pair of shoes that can be worn lounging around the Manor as well as to formal occasions, an end to world hunger... but I'd settle for you getting out of my way." 

'Martinique?' Harry mouthed silently in amusement. Draco resisted the urge to flip him off, then realized the redhead was ranting at him. 

"... my way, you pasty little fairy!" Ron was saying as Draco tuned back in. 

"Well, since I am going to lunch in the Great Hall, the entrance of which is on the right side of this hallway," Draco countered logically, "and as it seems that you in fact are leaving the Great Hall at this time, then it is only reasonable that I walk on this side of the hallway and you move over to my left." 

Ron worked his mouth a few times in an attempt to come up with a reply, but Harry stilled him, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Come on, Ron," he said amiably. "Let's just go and let him get to lunch. The last thing we need is to start a fight in the hallway right now." Ron huffed, but nodded, letting Harry lead him away, down the left side of the hall. 

As they moved past Draco, Harry turned to give him a quick look and... _winked_. Draco blinked stupidly for a second in response, the smiled, a small, knowing sort of smile. Harry returned it freely, then disappeared around the corner, Weasley in tow. Shaking his head incredulously, Draco continued on his way to the hall. 

Aside from having to do inventory, (which, if Draco was completely honest with himself, wasn't really such a bad thing), Draco decided it had been a very good day, indeed. 

* * * * * * 

The Gryffindor common room might as well have been empty for the amount of attention a certain prefect was giving it. Hermione was staring at a crumpled note in her hand, one she and four others had received with their dinner, stating quite clearly that they were to be in the Headmaster's Office at seven o'clock - only ten minutes away. She sat stiffly in one of the many comfortable lounge chairs scattered about the room, her eyes focused on the note, reading it over and over again. Harry watched her from where he was perched on the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, then sighed, rising up and walking over to her. 

"'Mione," he began. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with worry. "It won't be so bad," he tried to reassure her. "Professor Dumbledore is very reasonable and understanding. I'm sure Professor Snape is blowing this all out of proportion." Hermione nodded, but didn't reply. 

The sounds of Ron and his two brothers stomping down the stairs broke up the moment. They all looked at each other before a silent agreement passed between the five of them and they left the common room, making their way to the Headmaster's office without a word. 

Harry knew he should feel more worried than he did. Instead, he felt his mind wandering back to the short altercation in the hallway with Draco, his heart fluttering in his chest just at the memory of that briefest of conversations. 

Martinique - Harry almost smiled. He had no idea where Martinique was in the world, but for some reason, he kept imagining warm, white-sand, private beaches, hot sun over head, and cool ocean breezes dancing along the waves. Draco would be lounging on a blanket, eyes covered in a ridiculously expensive pair of sunglasses, body barely covered by a ridiculously skimpy bathing suit. A large beach umbrella would shield the two of them from the sun, Harry almost smelling the sunscreen as he warmed it between his palms, rubbing his hands languidly along Draco's back and down... 

Harry stopped dead in the hall, eyes wide, not noticing as George nearly plowed into him. Draco! He'd been thinking about Draco! Like _that_! He felt his breathing suddenly get fast and shallow, his heart pounding in his chest. Oh... this wasn't happening! Didn't they have enough to get through? Harry cursed his mind and body for betraying him like this and it took a few seconds to realize that George was pounding on his back and talking to him, the rest of his friends staring at him with wide-eyed concern. 

"Sorry," Harry gasped once his breath returned to him. "Sorry." 

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, not really trusting his voice. 

"You looked like you were having some kind of attack," Ron said, his voice sharp with worry. "You were all flushed! We thought you were going to pass out!" 

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized again. "I was just thinking... my mind was wandering... I... I... Can we just go to the Headmaster's office now? We don't want to be late." 

"You sure you're okay?" Fred asked. Harry nodded again. 

"I'm fine," he assured them. "It was nothing. Let's go." 

They continued on to the Headmaster's office, all four of them shooting Harry worried looks the whole way. 

* * * * * * 

Draco tugged down the sleeves of his favorite cashmere sweater, picking up his wand to make the small heating globe glow a little brighter, never able to get used to the cold of the dungeons. Setting his wand back down, he picked up a bottle of dried bricklebush leaves, eyeballing it's contents and making a note of it on the clipboard balanced on his lap from where he sat cross-legged on one of the long tables closest to the classroom potion supplies. The potions classroom was quiet, except for the soft melodies of a Beethoven Concerto playing out of the small music orb he'd brought with him. Draco loved the peace the dungeons at night afforded him, chilly temperatures notwithstanding. 

Already an hour into his work, the evening passed quietly and without interruption, various bottles and jars surrounding him on the table. He peeled the yellowed label off the bricklebush bottle, then used his quill to rewrite the name on a fresh label, his neat and flowing script almost the standard for all the items in the room. Draco had been doing inventory for his favorite teacher since halfway through first year and, for all of his grousing, enjoyed it immensely. There was something about setting things up in perfect order that set the boy's mind at ease. He frowned, putting the bottle back on the table. Maybe he really was as overly fastidious as Severus implied. He dismissed the thought with a half-shrug. 

The door to the classroom creaked open, it's squeaky hinges echoing alarmingly through the large room, making Draco look up quickly and turn his head. He frowned again. 

"Hello, Mr. Lupin," he said flatly. 

Remus Lupin walked into the room, a large, shaggy, black dog at his side. The man looked healthier then when Draco had seen him last, his body a little more filled out, the dark circles under his eyes and the tired lines on his face completely gone. He smiled at Draco. 

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, always a pleasure," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. Draco blinked at the cheerful greeting, but said nothing. "What brings you down here this time of night?" 

"Inventory for Professor Snape," he answered shortly. "And you?" 

"Oh, just looking for Severus," Remus replied. "I just arrived at the school and thought we'd catch up." 

"As much as I'm sure he'd enjoy that," Draco said dryly, "I'm afraid he isn't here right now. He's in a meeting with the Headmaster. I don't know how long he'll be." So leave, Draco added silently. Remus didn't take the unspoken advice, sitting down instead on one of the stools behind the table right behind Draco's, the dog sitting down on his haunches next to him, glaring at the young Slytherin. Draco wasn't even aware that dogs _could_ glare. 

"I'll just wait for him, then," Remus said. Draco shrugged and got back to work, determined to ignore the interloper who seemed determined to ruin his quiet time. 

"Is this Opus 37?" he asked after only a few seconds of silence. Draco squashed a growl. 

"Yes." 

"Oh, it's one of my favorite Piano Concertos. You know, I heard this performed once at Carnegie Hall back in '87. Of course, I had to sit in the box seats, but the acoustics there were just lovely and..." 

Draco tuned out the werewolf, gritting his teeth as he went about his work, silently wishing the damn dog would turn into Sirius Black and keep the man occupied in one way or the other. 

* * * * * * 

The Headmaster's office was just as Harry remembered it - warm and inviting, slightly cluttered with odd things, the Headmaster himself, sitting behind his desk, his eyes twinkling with some unidentifiable emotion as he looked at the five students in turn. Professor McGonagall sat in a chair on the right side of Dumbledore's desk, Professor Snape on the left. The Potions Master hadn't said a word since they'd arrived, sitting in his chair with a dark expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest. 

Hermione was shaking and a quick glance at the Weasley brothers told Harry they were all very nervous, fidgeting in their seats and glancing around. On the other hand, an odd calm had settled around Harry like a cloud. The punishment for the attack on Draco, even Quidditch, seemed unimportant in light of Harry's apparent case of confusion over his sexual orientation. 

He never liked boys in that way before! Was it something Draco was doing to him? Something involved with the strange bond between them? Harry wanted to ask Hermione, get her help in figuring all of this out, but he couldn't see himself doing that. It was embarrassing and weird and when Draco told him not to tell anyone, Harry got the distinct impression it wasn't about saving face or worry about what people would say. No, the only thing Harry sensed from Draco was fear - fear that if this got out, things would be dangerous for both of them. Harry didn't understand why, but he respected it. 

Harry forced his thoughts back to the present and realized everyone was staring at him, including the Headmaster. Harry looked around sheepishly. "What?" he asked. 

"Harry, I asked if you could please recount your version of what happened that day on the train at the end of last year," Dumbledore said gently. 

"Oh," Harry began intelligently, wondering what everyone else had already said. "Well, Draco came into our compartment with Crabbe and Goyle, he said some stuff that pissed us off, and we hit them with a bunch of curses. Then we left them there." Dumbledore was casting a critical eye over Harry and he suddenly felt very self-conscious. 

"Well," said the Headmaster after an extended silence, "I think I have enough facts now to make a decision. I think it all goes to a matter of intent. I don't believe the five of you intended to injure Mr. Malfoy and his friends." 

"No, not at all, Headmaster!" Hermione said forcefully. "It was just in the heat of the moment! We weren't thinking clearly!" 

"I understand that, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore replied kindly. "I know the five of you and I'm certain none of you would ever do something to intentionally injure another." Harry looked over at Professor Snape, expecting him to angrily voice his dissent. However, the man continued to sit quietly, his eyes shadowed. 

"However," continued Dumbledore, Harry looking back at the older man, "intentional or not, you did in fact attack three of your classmates in anger, using magic as a weapon. Therefore, I think it's reasonable for your detentions to continue and I will uphold the deduction of points taken from you by Professor Snape. Also, I am forbidding the five of you from going to Hogsmeade with your classmates for the rest of the year." 

"Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall protested, but Dumbledore held up his hand, stilling her. 

"My decision stands," he said firmly. "Nevertheless, as Mr. Malfoy nor his friends suffered any permanent injury and the five of you have already given them formal apologies, I do not think it is necessary to discuss Ms. Granger's Prefect status or the rest of your positions on your House Quidditch team. You five are on probation, however." Dumbledore leaned forward, his face stern. "If I hear that you are using magic inappropriately again, I will not hesitate to meet out the rest of your punishment as Professor Snape sees fit." The Headmaster sat back and shook his head. "I'm very disappointed in all of you," he said gravely. 

"We're sorry," Harry said. Dumbledore nodded sadly. 

"I know," he replied. "Now, why don't you five go on. You have detentions to do tonight." The five students rose from their chairs and left the office quickly. Dumbledore sat back and sighed, looking over at Severus. 

"I appreciate that you allowed me to handle this," he told the younger man. Severus snorted. 

"I only have to wait for them to screw up once more," he said, rising from his chair. He glanced over a Professor McGonagall and smirked. "Given your lovely students, that shouldn't take very long." 

"Severus..." Dumbledore warned as Minerva leaped out of her chair, her face flashing with anger. Severus just shrugged. 

"I have work to do," he said before the Deputy Headmistress could reply, then gave a small bow to Dumbledore and swept out of the room. Minerva muttered angrily under her breath and retook her seat. 

"He's insufferable," she spat, slumping down. Dumbledore chuckled. 

"That's one of the reasons why I hired him, Minerva," he said, oddly cheerful. "He keeps us young." 

* * * * * * 

Draco practically flew down the hall towards the Slytherin Dormitories, strands of long, platinum hair blowing behind him from the loose ponytail holding it back. His shoes clacked loudly against the stone floor with each rapid step, filling the empty hallway with sound. Shaking his head occasionally and muttering under his breath, he turned the corner and very nearly collided with his Godfather. 

"What is with me and running into people!" Draco cried a bit too loudly as he stumbled back. Severus had also stepped back, looking at the distraught boy with surprise. 

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, not harshly. Draco angrily adjusted his bookbag strap on his shoulder, tugging down the sleeves of his sweater. 

"You wanna know what's wrong?" he asked quickly, letting his grammar go in his irritation. "I'll tell you what's wrong! You have a mangy stray in your classroom right now who's only goal in life is to drive me crazy!" 

Severus blinked. "What?" he asked. 

"Our flea-bitten, friendly, neighborhood werewolf is hanging out in your classroom at this very moment!" Draco yelled. "I'm sitting there, doing inventory like you asked, and he just keeps talking and talking and talking, and he's driving me nuts, and it's a good thing I finished when I did because if I had spent one more minute in there, you'd have a DEAD werewolf on your hands and so you'll just have to deal with it because I'm going back to my dorm!" 

With that, all said in one amazing breath, Draco shoved the clipboard into Severus hands and pushed past his teacher, taking off at a near run back to the Slytherin Dorms, leaving a very confused Potions Master in his wake. Shaking his head to clear it, Severus continued on his way to his classroom, steeling himself for the inevitable conversation with two of his least favorite people in the world. The wooden door opened with a familiar creek. Remus turned around from where he was looking at a row of potion components, a large dog at his side, and smiled a far too annoying smile. 

"Severus, hello!" he said happily and Severus cringed. 

"Lupin, what did you do to my student?" he snapped. The werewolf laughed. 

"I was just making conversation. He's awfully high-strung." Remus looked Severus up and down, then smirked. "I wonder where he gets that from," he said smugly. 

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. "Come on," he growled, walking out of the classroom towards his private office. He could hear Remus following, as well as the canter of the large dog at his heals. As soon as they were safely behind the locked doors of the Potion Master's study, the dog shimmered and changed. 

Sirius shook his head. Severus made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. 

"I see Los Angeles has treated the two of you well," he said moodily. Sirius really did look better - his hair clean and shiny, dressed in comfortable dark clothing, the thinness gone from his form, his once sallow skin bronzed from warm California sun. 

"And I see the dungeons have not done the same for you," Sirius remarked airily. Severus glared. 

"Well, some of us have real responsibilities and can't spend our time lounging about on the beach," he snapped, then walked around his desk and sat down. Remus and Sirius took their own seats in the armchairs in front of the desk. "Why are you here, anyway?" Severus continued. "I was hoping to avoid the pleasure of your company for at least a few more days." 

"We got a good deal on a flight and decided to leave early," Remus replied. "Hope that's not a problem." 

"You two are always a problem," Severus sneered. "I'd rather hoped you would stay in California long enough for an earthquake to swallow you." Remus laughed again and sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose. 

"I see my potion is coming along well," he remarked. 

"It will be ready before your time of the month," Severus said, "which will be a great relief for me." 

"What was the meeting with Dumbledore about?" Sirius asked. "Remy and I were going to see him first, but Professor Flitwick said he was busy." 

"It's unrelated," Severus said with a dismissive wave. "Just your Godson being a jackass, as usual." 

"Hey!" Sirius started to rise out of his seat, but Remus grabbed his arm and shot him a warning glance. Sirius grumbled, but sat back down. 

"Well, he is, but I don't feel like retreading this ground right now." Severus flipped through the parchments on the clipboard, frowning now and again. "If you don't have anything else to discuss with me, the Headmaster should be free to meet with you and I have a great deal of work to do." Taking the hint, Remus and Sirius rose from their seats, Sirius transforming himself once again into his canine alter ego. 

"There's not much for us to report right now," Remus said mildly, turning to open the door. "Some unusual activity on the west coast, but nothing that's related to anything significant as near as we can tell. We figured it would be a good idea to get here well before the full moon, since Moody will be arriving in a few days." 

The clipboard clattered to the floor, Severus standing up quick enough to knock his chair back aways. "Moody's coming?" he asked, sounding a little alarmed. Remus turned back around, giving Severus a questioning look. 

"Yes," he told him. "We met up with him about a week ago. He had some information that he needed to pass to Dumbledore about Death Eater activity, but wanted to verify his sources first. He said he'd be here before the full moon." 

Severus closed his eyes briefly. "I thought he wasn't coming back here until after the winter holidays," he muttered. Remus shrugged. 

"It's not a big deal, is it?" he asked. Severus snapped his eyes open. 

"No, it's not," he said shortly, then retook his seat. "You two can get out of my office now." 

"Always a pleasure, Severus," Remus said with a chuckle and he and Sirius left the office, slamming the door behind them. 

Severus sat still for a moment, staring at the closed door, then stood up, drawing out his wand to lock the door securely. Another quick spell assured the soundproofing of his room and Severus dropped his wand back in the pocket of his robes, dragging a chair over to rest in front of the fireplace. Taking a small pinch of blue powder out of a jar on the mantle, he threw it into the fire, sitting down in his chair, watching as the flames turned bright green. 

"Connect me to Lucius Malfoy," he said clearly and waited. A few seconds later, the flames turned white and the head and shoulders of Lucius Malfoy appeared. 

"Severus!" Lucius said, sounding tired, but cheerful. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon." 

"We have a problem," Severus replied bluntly, wasting no time. Lucius sighed. 

"You know, every time people contact me, it's always bad news," he grumbled. "It's never, 'Hey, Lucius, how you doing?' or 'Good day, Lord Malfoy. You're investments are paying off.' Always bad news." He sighed again at Severus' dark expression. "What is it now? Is my son okay?" 

"Draco is fine. Much improved, actually," Severus told him. 

"Good, good," Lucius said. "I've been worried about him since we dragged him unconscious off the train last year." Severus nodded, then frowned. 

"I'm afraid this is very serious," he said. "Alastor Moody will be arriving at Hogwarts in a few days." 

"Damn!" Lucius cursed, reaching up a hand to stroke his newly grown goatee. 

"I know," Severus said with a weary nod. "The timing couldn't be worse." 

"There's no choice in the matter," Lucius said seriously. "The plan will just have to change. Things need to be set in motion before Moody arrives, otherwise there's a good chance he'll snoop around enough to discover what's going on." 

"There's a Quidditch game tomorrow," Severus mused. "The school always has a big dinner after the matches. The potion is easy to make and I can have it ready by then." 

"And I'll contact everyone involved and make sure they know of the change in plans." Lucius paused, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar to Severus. "After Moody gets here, Severus..." he trailed off, face lined with worry. 

"I know, Luke," Severus replied. "If there was some way we could convince Draco--" 

Lucius let out a short, barking laugh. "Not a chance, old friend," said the older man. "My son has 'Cissa's stubbornness, you know that." 

"Perhaps," Severus argued, "but Moody has threatened your family more than once. Hogwarts isn't as secure as the Headmaster would have us believe." 

"I know that better than anyone, Sev," Lucius replied, then shook his head. "Draco's smart. This kind of danger - it's what we've been preparing him for all his life. It's part of the price we pay for living the way we do and being who we are. We do the best we can." 

Severus nodded, but didn't reply, knowing there was nothing he could say that would make the situation any different. "I'll get the potion ready. The plan will go off tomorrow night." 

"And I'll be ready on this end," Lucius agreed, then added solemnly, "Be careful, Severus." 

"You too, Lucius," Severus said. After a nod from his friend, the fire turned back to a normal color, Lucius' visage vanishing away. Severus sat back and watched the flames, his mind a whirl of emotions. 

* * * * * * 

"What'cha working on, Drake?" 

Draco looked up as Blaise sauntered up to his desk, looking over his shoulder. "Just studying," he informed his dormmate. Blaise squinted at the book and at Draco's notes, then sniffed. 

"Invisibility cloaks?" he asked, skeptical. 

"I might want to make one someday," Draco replied smoothly. 

Blaise frowned. "Looks really complicated." 

"It is," Draco agreed. He picked up his notes, glancing through them. "It involves a lot of steps - getting the items necessary, setting a Gillipsee Stone's power center, interweaving the charms throughout a large cloth, tying it to a specific person - not something everybody can do." 

"I suppose if it was easy, everybody would have one," Blaise remarked sagely. 

"My family used to have one," Draco said a little wistfully, putting his notes back down on the desk. "It was made by Lord Tristos Malfoy, back in the seventh century. It got handed down throughout the years, but it apparently was lost when our family had to flee France during the Revolution." 

"That's a shame," Blaise said sincerely. "The more ancient they are, the more powerful, right?" 

Draco nodded. "Yes. While a cloak can hide you from physical sight, you can still be seen in other magical ways, at least until the charms woven into the cloth have time to cure completely." 

"It's better than nothing, I suppose." Blaise yawned "Well, think I'm going to go to bed." Draco made a noise of agreement, reaching over and turning off his lamp, then stood up, stretching. Greg and Vince were already passed out in their beds. Draco slid into his own, hearing Blaise do the same on the other side of the room. 

"Goodnight, Blaise," he called out into the darkness. 

"Pleasant dreams, Drake," came the sleepy reply. Draco leaned back on his pillow and smiled. 

* * * * * * 

Harry blinked stupidly as he took in his surroundings. A man in an odd looking suit walked past him, playing on some accordion-looking instrument, cars passing by on a cobblestone street nearby. Harry shifted in the comfortable folding chair he was sitting in, turning his head to focus on the crisp, white linen-covered tiny round table, upon which was set out a delicate looking meal and two glasses of wine. Draco sat in a chair across from him, dressed casually in a dark-green cashmere sweater and khakis, his hair pulled back in a half-ponytail, a pair of half-moon glasses perched on his nose. 

"Where ARE we?" Harry asked, unbelieving what he was seeing. 

"Paris," Draco told him. "This must be one of those little side-walk cafés you hear so much about." 

Harry chuckled, then sat forward as the guy with the accordion thing came up behind him again. "What is that thing?" he asked Draco. 

"A concertina, I believe." Draco lifted his wineglass and took a sip, closing his eyes in pleasure. 

"It's good?" Harry asked. 

"It's a 1929 Calon-Segur Saint-Estephe, Harry," Draco said with delight. Harry's face remained blank. "Yes, it's good," Draco clarified, rolling his eyes a little. 

"Sorry," Harry said with a wry grin. "Wine-tasting wasn't offered at my primary school." 

"Mores the pity." Draco rested the glass gingerly on the table, sitting back and sighing. 

"You know, the more I think about it, it really is a good thing we spend time in your dreams and not mine," Harry mused. 

"Why's that?" Draco asked. 

Harry shrugged. "I've never been anywhere Draco. If we were to visit someplace in my past, we'd be in a closet underneath the stairs at my uncle's home in Surrey." 

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Harry, but I've never been to Paris," Draco said, his expression turning a little somber. 

"But..." Harry waved at the scene around them. "How do you know about this, then? Nobody's imagination is this good." 

"Remember how I told you I never really left the manor as a child?" Harry nodded and Draco continued. "My father wanted me to experience the world in someway. He has a pensive in his office, filled with memories from trips just like this. Every now and then, he'd take out a memory and share it with me." Draco paused, looking around, smiling. "This was one of my favorites." 

"That's amazing," Harry replied with awe, then shook his head. "Still, in my dreams, we'd be in a closet." 

"That might be interesting, though," Draco replied evenly, his eyes taking on an odd light. "I've never been one to live in a closet." 

Harry sat back, giving Draco a curious look at the innuendo. "Is that so?" he finally asked. Draco gave a non-committal shrug. 

"The wizarding world is different from the muggle world, Harry," he replied. "We're a lot more tolerant of such things." 

"But not of muggles in general," Harry remarked, deciding this would be a good time to redirect the conversation. 

Draco sighed again. "You don't understand," he muttered. 

"Then explain it to me," Harry said. 

Draco took another sip of his wine, then took a deep breath. "Muggles are dangerous," he began. "They fear things they don't understand. That fear becomes anger, that anger becomes hate, and hate becomes suffering." 

Harry snorted. "You sound like Yoda!" he laughed. He expected a confused look from Draco, but instead got a small smile. 

"You think George Lucas is a muggle?" he asked blandly. Harry fell silent in quiet shock. "Anyway," he continued, "muggles destroy things they don't understand and can't control. My family has been driven to near extinction almost a dozen times in the course of our history, mobs of angry muggles killing men, women, and children whom they identified as preternatural. We came to Wales because of the protection afforded us by the large percentage of Wizarding folk in the British Islands. It's no coincidence that one of the finest wizarding schools in the world is in Scotland and Diagon Alley, one of the finest places to get magical supplies, is in London. There's strength in numbers, Harry." 

"That doesn't mean you can just wipe them all out because of it!" Harry argued. 

"Of course not," Draco replied. "But by allowing children borne of non-magical parents to enter our schools and allowing wizards and witches to interbreed with muggles, it means that just that many more of them know we exist. Since they won't accept us, our only choice is to exist in anonymity." 

"But if a child is born with magical abilities, even if their parents don't have them, don't you think they should be permitted to explore their gifts?" Harry asked. 

Draco said nothing, starting at the table. He looked back at Harry, frowning. "You're not going to like what I'm going to say next," he warned. 

"Say it anyway," Harry said. Draco nodded. 

"Historically, children with magical abilities were identified at a very young age by a group of wizards whose job was to do just that," Draco explained. "These children were taken from their homes and raised among their own kind. The parents never knew what happened to them. In fact, the memories of that child were usually just erased from the parents' minds." Just as he expected, Harry looked utterly horrified. 

"That's terrible!" Harry cried. "A child shouldn't ever be taken from their parents like that!" 

"It was for the child's protection as much our society's," Draco said. "Like I said, fear, to anger, to hate, to suffering. Many times, once the child's abilities started to manifest, the parents would believe he or she was possessed by Satan or something similar, at which point they would ritually kill the him or her." 

Harry shook his head as if he were trying to shake something loose. "It's not like that anymore." 

"Yes, it is," Draco insisted. "It will always be this way. People drag other people behind their cars just because they have different colored skin or an alternative sexual orientation. How do you think they'd react to those whose differences are even more profound?" 

"That doesn't make what Voldemort is doing is right!" Harry cried, slamming his fist down on the table. The glasses jumped. 

"I never said it does!" Draco replied in kind. "I don't agree with what Voldemort is doing anymore than you do. All you asked me is about my opinions on muggles and mixed-bloods, and I gave it to you. You didn't grow up in our world, Harry, and you don't understand how it really works. All you've seen of it is some candy-coated version of it the Headmaster and his friends like to dish out, safe with in the walls of Hogwarts! Once we graduate, we have to live in a world where we're a secretive minority, where using your gifts in the wrong place could lead to you being stoned to death or hung up in a tree somewhere. And it does still happen, Harry, trust me!" 

Harry stared at Draco, his expression unreadable. A long, uncomfortable silence fell between them. Draco watched Harry, waiting to see if the rift that had opened had ruined any chance of salvaging the fragile bridge they'd just begun to build. 

"You don't support Voldemort," Harry finally said, his voice soft. 

It was a statement, not a question. Draco remained silent a moment more, watching Harry's face carefully. "No, of course I don't," he said quietly. "Why would you think that?" 

"Your father--" Harry began, but Draco cut him off. 

"My father is in a situation beyond his control," he said quickly. "If he... if he didn't make the decisions he did, I wouldn't be alive today." 

"Some life," Harry replied bitterly. "Trapped in your home, always worried about being killed or worse, never getting to go anywhere without your family..." 

"It's the only life I could have, Harry," Draco said, his voice firm. "If my father was legitimately guilty he'd be in Azkaban right now. Trust me, he has enough enemies in the Ministry to make that a very real possibility." 

Harry sat still for a moment, then nodded. "I'm glad you don't support Voldemort," he said simply. Draco smiled. 

"So am I," he assured the other boy. 

They sat in silence again, this time the void of conversation not the least bit unsettling, the world filled with the gentle sounds of Paris in the afternoon, the concertina player filling the air with soft music, the dream passing in an easy truce between them. 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback!   
What the heck is a "concertina," I hear you ask? Well, it's one of those.. accordion... things. Oh, heck, just check out this website.   
http://members.soltec.net/~daglenn/conctina.html   
And as for wines, I know diddly-squat. I just checked out a website and went with the most expensive wine on their list (almost $2000 a bottle!). And that, my friends, is about the extent I'll research things for this story. ^_^   
Next Chapter: The Plan! The Plan! We finally carry out The Plan! Also, see the obligatory Quidditch match, Draco and Harry getting a little closer (baby-steps people, baby-steps), and, well, mostly it's about The Plan. Thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you! 


	9. Chapter Eight

A/N: Fifty-one reviews! *does a happy dance* Thanks everybody! And now our shout out to those who reviewed last chapter: Thanks to DragonMage, mistykasumi, curlytwirl, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, MoonFire, anne phoenix, Jenluci, WildfireFriendship, Avada Kedavra, and Amethyst Shard! *whew* That was a lot of you last chapter. ^_^ Now, here's a LOT of story! Thanks for reading!

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter VIII

Draco hardly glanced up as the morning owl post swooped into the Great Hall, hooting and squawking, the occasional feather falling onto the breakfast plates. What had once been a spectacular sight five years ago was now common place. Picking a feather out of his scrambled eggs, while trying to overlook the obvious irony, Draco ignored the birds as best he could, not really expecting to receive anything. Instead, he remained lost in thought, mentally going over the dream he and Harry had shared the night before. 

It had been intense, talking to Harry so frankly. Draco was never one to divulge his thoughts freely, believing firmly that keeping parts of yourself secret was the best way to hold power over others. In the dreams, however, life felt less real, like he could speak about what he was thinking without consequence. He worried about that. In his B.H. (Before Harry) life, dreams were his own, his thoughts were his own - they were a place where he could work out internal conflicts with himself, in the privacy of his own psyche. Now that someone else had privy to those thoughts, Draco wasn't sure what to do about it and was finding that he couldn't help but fall into old patterns, his attitude in his dreams unchanged, regardless of the change in circumstance. He wondered if keeping Severus in the dark about his connection to Harry was as bad an idea as he believed it to be, if he would tip his hand too soon in the game. They had weeks to go before enacting the Plan. If Harry found out about it, Draco strongly suspected that would be the end of months of hard work. The naive Gryffindor couldn't even understand why muggles and mixed-bloods were dangerous - how could he understand the magnitude of the situation surrounding them? 

Draco missed that sort of innocence. He wasn't sure he'd ever had it, actually. And there was yet another thing to be envious about. 

Great, just great. 

"Draco. Draco!" 

Draco looked up, turning to the scowling face of Pansy Parkinson, who's obviously been trying unsuccessfully to get his attention. 

"Sorry, yes?" Draco asked, blinking out of his thoughts. 

"Honestly," Pansy huffed, irritated at being ignored. "You are so flighty sometimes. You have post." Again, overlooking the irony in Pansy's statement, Draco turned to where she was gesturing to his right. On the table, picking lightly at Greg's unused napkin, stood a large, unfamiliar crow, a small envelope tied to its leg. 

"Who would send a crow?' Pansy asked loudly, her eyes narrowing unattractively on her pretty face. "Some... friend you're not telling us about?" 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her insinuating tone, then shrugged his shoulders, going for nonchalant. "I won't know until I open the letter, now will I?" he informed her, his calm, bored tone of voice hiding the curiosity bubbling in his chest. With deft fingers, he untied the letter from the crow's leg, the bird immediately taking off, flying out of the Great Hall. 

Draco ran his fingers across the crème-colored envelope, looking intently at the rounded, unfamiliar handwriting in which his name was spelled out in dark black ink. Picking up his breakfast knife, he sliced through the top of the envelope in one smooth motion, removing the letter and unfolding it. He quickly scanned the parchment, his face kept carefully devoid of emotion as he read. 

_Dear Draco,   
Remember me? Sesha? I thought I'd just drop you a note to see how things are coming along. Things are good overseas. The time has come for you to visit. The monarchs will be migrating south soon, maybe even this evening! We expect them to reach their final destination in a week or so. It should be a sight to see!   
Anyway, there isn't much time, so I'll keep this quick. I look forward to seeing you on the second - hopefully the weather won't be too vile. I know how hectic things can be at your school, but I'm sure you can find time to yourself. One of my favorite places to be is the kitchen! Isn't it wonderful to watch food being prepared for the evening? Even so, if all else fails, I'm sure you could make your way to visit me.   
Loves and Kisses!   
Sesha _

Draco snapped his head up, glancing over at the teacher's table, before pocketing the note. Severus sat with his eyes closed, Lupin chatting in his ear. Even from this distance, Draco could see his godfather's hands clenching and unclenching in frustration. Severus, perhaps sensing that he was being stared at, allowed his eyes to flutter open, meeting Draco's own for a few brief seconds before he turned and growled something to Lupin, which just made the werewolf laugh. Turning back to his own table, Draco picked up his fork, intent on finishing his breakfast. 

"Well?" Pansy asked. Draco looked up at her. 

"Well, what?" The girl rolled her eyes. 

"What was in the letter, of course!" she snapped. 

"Oh," Draco replied easily. "Nothing of consequence. Just an invite to a society dinner with a friend of my mother's. I've been getting them pretty regularly as of late. I think it has something to do with a number of young ladies who would like to enter into a contract with my family." 

Pansy set her fork down loudly on the table. "I thought you said your parents weren't arraigning your marriage," she said moodily. 

"They aren't," Draco drawled. "It doesn't stop others from trying, however." Pansy sniffed. 

"Aw, lay off a bit, will you, Pansy, darling?" Blaise said from down the table, having overheard the whole conversation. "There's plenty of time for us to worry about marriage contracts and inheritance." 

"Fat lot you know, Blaise Zabini," came her sharp reply, tempered with a small smile touching the corner of her lips. "Men age gracefully. Women just age." 

Draco and his dormmates laughed at this, Pansy even allowing herself a quiet snicker. "Amen to that," Blaise chuckled. 

The sound of something loudly banging on the table a little way from their group startled them all into silence. Draco turned to the source of the sound and, much to his annoyance, found himself looking straight at the hulking, angry form of Bane Relesky, seventh-year Slytherin and all around bad egg. 

"You're all a bunch of twits, you know that?" he growled. "Wasting your time puttering about and talking about your inane lives when there are much more important things about to happen - you lot disgust me." 

"Well, we did feel we had to return the favor," Draco said immediately, his friends looking at him with surprise and a little bit of pride. Bane bristled and stood up, Draco also rising from his chair. 

"You make me want to puke, Malfoy," Bane seethed, getting right up in the younger boy's face. 

"Interesting," Draco replied, his voice calm and even. "You make me think somebody already did." 

Bane drew his fist back and Pansy screamed. 

* * * * * * 

"Harry, look!" Ron said happily, pointing at the teacher's table as he took his seat. "Professor Lupin's here!" 

Harry had already noticed and was trying to catch the werewolf's eye, who smiled and waved at him. Snuffles had his paws up on the table, tail wagging furiously as he recognized his godson. Harry started to go over to talk to him, but Remus motioned to him to eat breakfast first, as he seemed to be in a conversation with Professor Snape. Harry nodded in agreement at the silent conversation and took his seat. There would be plenty of time to catch up with the two of them later, when it wouldn't look so unusual if Harry started talking to a dog. 

The Gryffindor House, finally knowing that half of their Quidditch team wouldn't be benched for the season, was in good spirits. Even though it was Friday, afternoon classes had been canceled for the match against Ravenclaw and everyone was looking forward to it. Hermione's smiling face was a great relief to the entire House, the redness and worry gone from her eyes. The world felt right again. Neville was even grousing about his homework, something he hadn't done in the past few days, not wanting to upset his friends even more. 

"I don't know what to write about," he mumbled, looking down at the blank scroll set out before him as though it held the answer to the universe. He looked around at his friends. "Somebody tell me why I'm taking muggle studies again?" 

"Because you're masochistic?" Dean suggested. 

"Anserine?" Seamus added. 

"Insane?" Dean finished. 

"That's enough," Neville interrupted them before they could continue. 

"What's the topic?' Hermione asked gently. 

Neville gave her a grateful look, then shuffled some a few papers. "'The Muggle World versus the Wizarding World: Discuss a Fundamental Difference in Societal Attitudes in a Topic of Your Choosing,'" he read, then looked back at Hermione, distressed. 

"What's the problem?" came her confused question. Neville sighed. 

"I just can't think of anything!" he cried. "I don't know anything about muggles! That's why I'm taking this class!" 

"Seems to me you just need to find something that's different enough to write a long paper about," Dean remarked. "There's lots of differences to choose from." 

"What about homosexuality?" Harry blurted. Everyone turned to look at him. 

"What about it?" Ron asked. 

Harry bit his lip before answering. "Well," he hedged, "it's just that I heard that the wizarding world doesn't have a problem with it." 

Again, Ron looked confused. "Why would we?" 

"The muggle world has big issues with it," Hermione told him, then looked back a Neville. "That might actually be a terrific topic." 

"What sort of issues?" Neville asked, curious. Hermione started to explain, but suddenly, the relative peacefulness of the Great Hall was shattered by an ear-splitting scream. Harry, along with everyone else, spun around in their chairs, looking for source of the noise. 

A large Slytherin that Harry didn't know by name was attacking Draco. It took a split second for what was occurring to really register and then, it happened. 

The Slytherin table exploded with fury. 

The boys started leaping out of their seats, attacking one another, the girls and the younger students scattering from the melee. Draco was surrounded by three additional seventh-years, but seemed to be holding his own okay, yet a punch or a kick occasionally made it's way past his defenses, causing Harry to cringe. Chairs and plates of food flew around as various bodies slammed them into, the brawl getting louder and rougher with each passing second. Draco finally collapsed under the attack, the largest boy bearing down on him, wrapping his hands around the younger boy's neck. Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini all tried to help their friend, but the rest of the seventh-years met their attack head-on, preventing them from assisting. Draco's face started to turn a ghastly blue. Horrified, Harry realized it was just like watching the dream, only this time in real life. Harry leapt to his feet, determined to help Draco. A hand grabbed him and pulled him back into his seat. 

"Are you crazy?" Ron shouted at him over the din, his eyes wild with a mix of amusement and horror. "They're killing each other! Let them have at it!" Harry struggled to free himself from Ron's grip, determined to save his... friend?, but it ended up becoming a mute point. 

As soon as the shock of the situation had worn off, Professor Snape practically flew from the teacher's table, grabbing at the boy assaulting Draco, yanking him off his favorite student in a move of pure adrenaline, his wiry frame easily over-powering the large boy. Remus followed close on his heals, helping with the effort to break up the fight. Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair, raising his wand high above his head. 

The air erupted with sound, a near-deafening bang filling the air along with a blinding flash of light. Everybody let out shout of surprise, attempting to cover both their ears and eyes at the same time. The fight stopped dead. 

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore shouted, his voice magically amplified. The participators on both sides of the fight were backing away from one another, rubbing their aching ears and blinking rapidly. Draco seemed to be having trouble getting up, an obviously worried Professor Snape trying to hold him still, looking at his injuries. 

"THIS BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE," Dumbledore continued, glaring at the offenders. "EVERYONE WILL NOW REPORT TO THEIR FIRST CLASS." 

The teachers and students started shuffling out of the Great Hall, Harry being dragged along by Ron, trying to see over the herd of people how Draco was doing. The blond Slytherin finally stood up, Professor Snape supporting him as he staggered out the door on the opposite side of the Hall. Harry watched as long as he could until he was out of sight. 

"That was great!" Ron was saying, pulling Harry along. "Did you see that? Terrific!" 

Harry felt numb. 

* * * * * * 

"Ow," Draco muttered as Madame Pomfrey poked at a particularly painful area on his side. "Ow!" he repeated as she poked him again. 

"Quit complaining," she snapped, her face twisted in concentration, feeling his chest for broken ribs, pressing into bruised areas without gentleness. 

"OW!" Draco cried, trying to twist away. It didn't help any that he was cold, dressed only in his boxers and the thin t-shirt he'd been wearing under his robes. The nurse scowled. 

"I said, 'Quit complaining.'" She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, frowning. "I count three broken ribs, a sprained knee, a small fracture in your collarbone, bruises numbering in the twenties, and a blackened eye. You've done quite a job on yourself." 

"Yes, I must stop running into peoples' fists like that," Draco remarked dryly, then cringed as a painful spasm shot through his side. "Ow," he mumbled. Madame Pomfrey shook her head, then turned away, walking over to the large cabinet by her desk. 

Severus swooped into the Hospital Wing, expression angry. Draco gingerly turned his head, meeting his godfather's incensed eyes. "Sorry," he said quietly. Severus shook his head, beyond words. 

"How could you do this?" he finally managed. Draco sighed. 

"It was Bane's fault," he said with conviction. "He hit me first!" 

"You never start fights with fists, only with words," Severus snapped. "You must have said _something_ to set him off. How could you be so careless, especially now?" Draco said nothing, mollified. Madame Pomfrey walked back over to his bedside, a large glass bottle filled with red liquid in her hand. 

"This should help," she told him, helping him sit up so he could drink the potion. Draco pulled a face at the taste. 

"What will that do?" he asked, leaning back against the headboard. 

"Relieve your pain, lower some of the swelling," she replied, putting the cork back on the bottle and setting it on his nightstand. "You're such a bother, Mr. Malfoy. You know your body doesn't respond well to magical healing. I could have sworn we had this conversation two years ago after the Hippogriff incident." She narrowed her eyes at Draco's right knee, still swollen and puffy. "I'll have to make you a brace for that, as well as for your ribs," she said, then walked away again, heading into a backroom. Draco looked over at Severus, feeling some of the pain drifting away. The Potions Master was still glaring at him. 

"Don't you have a class to teach or something?" he grumbled, hating the disappointment and anger radiating off of Severus. 

"I asked Lupin to cover it for me." At Draco's incredulous look, Severus added, "I'm just having them write essays. Even _he_ can't screw that up." Draco raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh hell," Severus groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "Yes, he can." Draco laughed a little, then gasped, his hand flying to his broken ribs. Severus expression went from slightly amused to extremely worried in less then a second, reaching out a hand to rest on his student's shoulder. 

"Not doing that again," Draco grimaced. Severus sighed, moving his hand to touch Draco's cheek, trying to get a closer look at the slowly fading bruise around Draco's eye. Pulling back, he looked over his shoulder, noting that the nurse was still in the other room. 

"Are you going to be able to handle tonight?" he asked him, very softly. Draco nodded. 

"My part's easy," he whispered. 

Severus smiled and was about to say more, but Madame Pomfrey took that moment to come bustling back into the room. "Try to get to Potion's class," Severus said loudly and with a pointed look. Draco nodded again. 

The nurse walked over to him, dropping a large array of bandages, splints, and other unnerving items at the foot of his bed. "Heading to class?" she asked Severus, unwrapping a large roll of dressings. 

"Yes," Severus replied. "I fear if I don't return, Lupin may corrupt my students." Madame Pomfrey playfully slapped him on the arm. 

"Don't be mean to the poor dear," she chastised him. "He's been through so much." 

"Haven't we all?" came the Potions Master's dry reply, before he turned around and walked rapidly out of the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey sighed, watching him go. Then, she turned back to Draco, an odd gleam in her eyes, snapping a length of bandages between her hands. 

"Let's wrap up those ribs, shall we?" she suggested with a wicked grin. 

Draco swallowed audibly. 

* * * * * * 

Severus walked quickly down the hall towards the dungeon, his robes billowing behind him, determine to reach his classroom before Lupin poisoned his students' minds. The stupid man seemed to feel that being friendly and compassionate was a way to inspire students to learn. Maybe that worked in the namby-pamby field of Divination, but it served no purpose in subjects as important and dangerous as Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. The whole concept of an easy going nature when working with hazardous things - utter nonsense to Severus' way of thinking. 

"Severus!" 

The Potion Master stopped, gritting his teeth and turning around. Professor McGonagall walked up behind him, strands of her graying hair falling out of her normally neat bun, her expression stormy. Severus fought the urge to sigh. 

"What?" he asked her shortly. McGonagall narrowed her eyes. 

"Quite a disgusting display from your House this morning," she told him, soundly oddly triumphant. "The Headmaster asked me to discuss the situation with you so we can determine the course of action we should take." 

"We?" he repeated. "This was fighting within my own House. I will handle it personally." 

"It goes beyond you," McGonagall snapped. "Someone could have been seriously hurt, Severus." 

"Mr. Malfoy has three broken ribs," he informed her. 

"Precisely," she said, as if she'd proved her point. "If you believe you are so qualified to handle this, tell me what you plan to do." 

"The best thing to do right now is to just keep them separated and under watchful eyes," Severus said tiredly. "We'll keep them in classes and away from the dorms. I'll make the Quidditch game mandatory so we know where they are at all times." 

"You can't watch them forever," McGonagall huffed. "What about tonight? They'll have to return to their dorms at some point. Unless, of course, you plan on spending the evening in the Slytherin common room." 

The Deputy Headmistress seemed to find this amusing and Severus did his best not to raise his hand and flip her off. "Other sleeping arrangements will have to be made," he replied icily. "I'll take care of it after dinner. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get to class." 

He turned and walked away before she could say any more. 

* * * * * * 

If was halfway through second period before Draco managed to limp away from the insanity that was Madame Pomfrey. Over an hour of being poked, prodded, taped, and clucked over was more than enough for the young Slytherin. He sighed in contentment as the door to the Potions classroom came into view, silently cursing that the school had so many bloody staircases. 

As he pushed the door open, the hinges creaked loudly as usual and everyone looked up from where they were huddled over their parchments. Blaise, who'd saved him a seat, gave him a relieved and happy grin with his bloodied lip, a grin that was echoed throughout the Slytherin side of the room, punctuated with the occasional "thumbs-up" and wink. Draco suspected they were two seconds away from applauding. Sinking down onto the stool next to Blaise, he gave his friend an encouraging smile. Severus looked up from his desk. 

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, good of you to join us," he said easily, walking over to their table. "The class is writing an essay on the fifty uses of _Engelmannia pinnatifida_ in the Healing Class of potions. Because of your late arrival, you may turn yours in to me on Monday." 

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied. The Potions Master laid a hand on Draco shoulder, nodding, then walked back to his desk. 

Draco shifted on the uncomfortable stool, slipping a hand into the pocket of his robes, looking down at Blaise's parchment. The boy had doodled a crude drawing of Bane in one corner, his face contorted in pain, a large sword sticking out of his back. The two boys shared a wicked grin before Blaise continued working on his essay. Suddenly, the crawling sensation of knowing someone was looking at you worked its way up Draco's spine and he glanced around unassumingly. 

Harry. 

The Boy Who Lived was looking right at him from where he sat across the room, eyes conveying every thought running through the Gryffindor's mind. _Are you okay?,_ Draco felt him ask. _What is happening?_

In response to his first unspoken question, Draco smiled slightly, then nodded, grimacing a little at his still sore collarbone. As for the second, Draco sent out a silent plea of, "Don't ask me that now," which Harry seemed to accept, if a bit unhappily. Acutely aware that the two of them making eyes at one another would draw unwanted attentions sooner or later, both boys looked casually away. 

Neither one noticed Hermione's curious and worried look as she watched the scene pass between the two boys. 

* * * * * * 

"Finally!" Blaise cheered as they packed up their bags after their third period Charms class. "All that's left is a light lunch, then we can watch the Ravenclaw Team pulverize the Gryffindors into the ground!" Draco smiled at his exuberance. 

"Mr. Malfoy!" Draco looked up, tiny Professor Flitwick rushing over to them. 

"Yes, Professor?" he asked. 

"I just wanted to say how pleased I am at your improvement in this class!" said the little man excitedly. Draco looked to his book bag where the test they'd just had returned to them was stashed. "Your wand movements and general understanding of the concepts covered on the last exam were stellar!" 

"Thank you, Professor," Draco replied, wondering when they would be free to leave. 

"If you keep up this level of work, I wonder if you wouldn't mind tutoring some of the younger students," Flitwick continued, not noticing the shuffling and occasional glances being shot at the door by his two students. "Since you overcame your difficulties with the subject, you might be able to empathize with those below you who are having the same problems." 

Blaise started laughing softly under his breath and Draco glared at him, then looked back the professor. "I'm not sure, Sir," he hedged. "I mean, I _am_ doing research with Professor Snape..." 

"I'll award ten points to your House for every tutoring session you do with a student," Flitwick added. 

"Deal," Draco said firmly, sticking out his hand to shake the older man's, trying to ignore Blaise's incredulous gasp of surprise. 

"Fantastic!" gushed the professor. "I'll get you a list of students right away. You boys run along to lunch!" 

Blaise grabbed Draco's arm, dragging him away. "Did Bane hit your head this morning?" he asked him once they were safely out of the classroom. "Why did you agree to _that_?" 

"We're going to need the points," Draco told him, brushing off his friend's hand, "especially after what happened this morning." 

"For that sacrifice, I hold you in even higher respect," Blaise said formally, giving a little bow. Draco rolled his eyes. 

"What 'sacrifice?'" The two boys turned and saw Vincent and Greg, looking confused as usual. 

"Draco, for the sake of ten points a pop, has sacrificed his sanity to hold the hands of the younger generation and guide then towards higher marks in Flitwick's class," Blaise explained. Greg blinked. 

"What?" asked Vince. 

"He means I just volunteered to tutor some younger students in Charms," Draco clarified. 

"Oh," Greg replied. "Why didn't he just say that?" 

"Because he's an idiot," Draco deadpanned. 

"Hey!" 

"Anyway," Vince said, stalling any further argument, "let's go eat lunch so we can get to the Quidditch pitch early. I hate being in the front of the bleachers." 

"You guys go ahead," Draco said, reaching up a hand to touch his still-sore side. "I think I need to lay down for a while." 

"We're not supposed to go back to the dorms," Greg reminded him. 

Draco yawned. "I know. I'm just going to go sleep on the couch in Professor Snape's office. He won't mind." 

"Are you coming to the Quidditch match?" Blaise asked. 

"I might come later," Draco said. "Save me a seat?" he called as he turned away. 

"Will do!" Blaise replied, he, Vincent, and Greg heading towards the Great Hall. Draco nodded and started to make his way down to Severus' office, slipping his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the small glass vial his godfather had passed to him during their brief talk in Potion's class. 

Almost sighing, but remembering at the last minute about his broken ribs, Draco walked on, disappearing into the depths of the dungeon. 

* * * * * * 

Harry slammed his locker shut after dropping his Quidditch gear onto the locker room floor. All around him, the three other male members of the team were laughing and joking in various states of undress. Fred and George kept attacking their brother with a towel. Harry watched the mock fight as he pulled on his gear and smiled, but worry kept niggling in the back of his mind. 

Draco wasn't at lunch. When he'd arrived halfway through Potions, Harry had been initially relived, then worried all over again. Draco hadn't looked much better than he did when he'd staggered out of the Great Hall, limping into the classroom in obvious pain, his face still dotted with bruises. Madame Pomfrey had always done a terrific job of healing him, but it hadn't looked like Draco had received more than basic first aid. Harry wasn't sure if it was because he'd been injured while fighting or if the nurse gave out preferential treatment. For whatever reason, Harry didn't like seeing Draco in pain, which, the more he thought about it, also bothered Harry quite a bit. His connection with Draco was getting much deeper than even what the fractured spell prescribed. Sitting down to tie his boots, Harry let his thoughts swim around his head, not liking the direction they were going but not sure if there was anything he could do about it. 

"Harry!" Harry looked up. Ron was standing over him, frowning. "Hermione has been shouting for you through the locker room door for the past minute and a half!" 

"Sorry, just going over game plays," Harry said quickly, pulling on his gloves and picking up his broom. "You better hurry getting ready before Captain Bell gets mad. I'll see you guys out on the field," he told them, walking out door. 

Hermione was waiting for him, looking at him with an unreadable expression. "What's up, Hermio--ack!" The girl wasted to time in latching onto his arm and dragging away under the bleachers. 

"'Mione, what?" Harry cried after she finally let go of him. 

"What's going on between you and Malfoy?" she asked bluntly. Harry felt himself go cold. 

"W-what?" he stuttered. "I don't know what you're talking about--" 

"Yes, you do," Hermione snapped. "You've been mooning over him for days, staring over that the Slytherin table, your mind wandering in the middle of conversations. I also saw the _look_ you two shared during Potion's class and I've been doing some research on your dreams." 

"You... have?" Harry had rather hoped she'd forgotten about him telling her when the whole thing with Professor Snape had started. Apparently, she hadn't. 

"Yes," Hermione barreled on, "I have. When you said in the meeting with Professor Snape that you had aimed for Goyle but hit Malfoy instead, it reminded me of something. I remembered the extra-credit essay I had done for Professor Flitwick on 'Magic Gone Wrong.' Your spell fractured and reflected, Harry! Then, I thought about your dreams and did some research and learned that reflected spells can cause mental connections between caster and castee. Now, this is what happened, right?" 

"Um..." Harry started, but at Hermione's angry expression, decided it was useless to lie. "Yes," he said with a sigh. "Yes that's what happened." 

"And you didn't tell us?" Hermione cried, sounding hurt. "How long we're you planning on keeping this to yourself?" 

"I... don't know," Harry admitted. "I mean, we didn't realize what had happened to us until a couple of days ago. Everything was falling apart with Professor Snape and you were so worried about losing your prefect status - I just didn't want to make waves." 

"That's not a good enough excuse, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head disapprovingly. "You needed to tell us! You can't trust Malfoy, you know that! It's even worse now that the two of you are sharing a brain!" 

"We're not 'sharing a brain!'" Harry snapped. "And you don't know Draco." 

"And you do?" she asked. "He's a Slytherin, for God's sake! Everything he's told you is probably a lie!" 

"That is not true," Harry said angrily. "You don't understand. He's--" 

"He's up to something," Hermione cut in. Harry looked at her, silent for a moment. 

"What?" he finally asked. 

"He's up to something, Harry!" she repeated. "During breakfast today, he got a letter from a crow. After he read it, he got this funny look on his face. Then, a few minutes later, the fight broke out at the Slytherin table. Finally, during Potion's class today, I saw Professor Snape pass him a vial of some potion! And now, he's not even at the _mandatory_ Quidditch game! It's suspicious!" 

"I used to get letters with strange birds from Snuffles all the time," Harry reminded her. "His family is... eccentric. It was probably a letter from his mother. As for the potion, need I remind you he was injured pretty badly today? It was probably some restorative. I'm sure that's why he's not at the Quidditch game, too. He's no doubt resting back at the castle! You're seeing things that aren't there, Hermione!" 

"Or maybe I'm seeing things you've been blinded to," came her angry retort. "I can't believe you're being this careless, Harry! This is _Draco Malfoy_ we're talking about! 'Any means to achieve their ends,' remember? He's using you!" 

Harry shook his head angrily. "He is not--" 

"Potter!" came a shout from Katie Bell standing over by the entrance to the field, the rest of the Gryffindor Team suited up and waiting for him. "Come on! We've got a game to win!" 

"Coming!" Harry yelled back. 

"We'll talk more about this later, Harry," Hermione told him in a scolding tone usually reserved for naughty four-year-olds. "Good luck with your game." 

"Yeah, right," Harry replied sarcastically, then turned and walked away, meeting his team on the Quidditch pitch, his mind whirling with questions as he mounted his broom. 

At the sound of the Madame Hooch's whistle, Harry rose off the ground, flying high above the pitch, his expression troubled, his eyes unfocused. 

What if Hermione was right? 

* * * * * * 

Draco watched the game in progress from a small window in the castle. It was hard to see what was happening, all of the players looking like little specks bouncing around, but every now and then, a loud cheer would sound from the pitch, no doubt one of the teams having scored. Draco hoped Gryffindor was winning - they were much more fun to play against than the Ravenclaws and he really wanted to play them in the finals. 

With a slight sigh, Draco turned away from the window and resumed his journey through the near-silent halls, the only sounds coming from his own footsteps and the occasional muttering of the paintings lining the corridor. Draco preferred Hogwarts this way - empty and a little frightening. It reminded him of home. 

"Well, somebody isn't where they're supposed to be." 

Draco looked up, startled from his thoughts, to see Filch standing over him. Draco frowned. How a squib like him managed to move so silently through the halls and consistently surprise him confused the young Slytherin to no end. At least he classified as a minor annoyance at best. 

"Mr. Filch," he said formally. The caretaker sneered. 

"Aren't you supposed to be at the Quidditch game, like all the rest of the vermin?" he asked. Draco started to shrug, but stopped, remembering his injuries. 

"I missed lunch today because the pain relieving potion Madame Pomfrey gave me knocked me out," Draco explained easily. "I'm on my way to the kitchens to get something to eat. Professor Snape excused me from the Quidditch game. You can ask him yourself." 

"I'll bet," Filch replied, then inclined his head. "Go on, then." 

"Thank you," Draco said, then limped on his way, listening every now and then for if the caretaker was following him. As soon as he was sure he wasn't, Draco picked up his pace as best he could. Finally, he made it to the ghastly still-life painting that served as the door to the kitchens, reached up, and tickled the pear. As soon as the fruit stopped giggling, the painting swung open and Draco clamored through. Immediately, he was accosted by almost fifty house-elves. 

"Ah, is welcome here!" said one, reaching out to tug on his robes. 

"Is needing anything?" another asked. "We is happy to get anything the Master wants, we is!" And so on and so forth, Draco not able to get a word in edgewise, until... 

"Is all going away!" shouted a garishly dressed Dobby, pushing the other house-elves aside. "Is Dobby's Master here! Dobby is helping!" The other house-elves wandered off back to their tasks, muttering angrily amongst themselves in their own language. 

"Hello, Dobby," Draco said mildly. 

"Dobby is so happy to be seeing Master Draco," he gushed. "Dobby was worried when Master Draco is hurt by other boy." A dangerous twinkle lit the house-elf's eyes. "Is Master Draco wanting Dobby to short-sheet dumb boy's bed this night?" 

Draco laughed. "Perhaps another time," he said gently. "No, tonight, I need you to do me a favor." 

"Anything Master Draco wants, Dobby do!" came the enthusiastic reply. 

"Good," Draco said. "Now, do you remember what I told you about earlier? About the super-secret job I would have you do?" The house-elf nodded vigorously. 

"Dobby is having good memory, Master Draco," he said. "Dobby is remembering super-secret job Dobby is to be doing for Master Draco." 

"Wonderful," Draco replied, reaching into his pocket and removing the small glass vial, handing to the house-elf. "You'll do a good job, right?" 

"Dobby do good," the house-elf assured him. "Dobby do anything for Master Draco. Master Draco kind and good!" 

"Maybe so," Draco mused. 

"Master Draco is being hungry, yes?" Dobby asked him. Draco nodded. "Dobby is to be getting food for Master Draco, okay?" 

"Yes, thank you," the Slytherin replied. Dobby gave a little jump of happiness and disappeared into the kitchen, vial in hand. 

Draco leaned back against the kitchen wall and smiled. 

* * * * * * 

Harry made a lazy circle high above the Quidditch pitch, his mind no where near the game at hand. What if Hermione was right? What if Draco was using him? What if the Slytherin had discovered the bond between them and decided to use it to his advantage, putting Harry off guard, gaining his trust so he could set him up for a fall. Didn't that fit in more with Draco's personality than the beautiful, honest, if troubled, young man he'd come to know in their shared dreams? Could he have been lying to him the whole time? 

Harry didn't know for sure, but the more he thought about it, the more nervous he became. If Draco was using him, than Harry was in a nasty situation. There was no way out of their bond, except, Harry suspected, through death. Would Draco lead him along until he was no longer useful? Draco _hadn't_ come to the mandatory Quidditch game, like Hermione said. Harry had spent a large part of the game scanning the stands and the blond Slytherin was no where to be found. It was suspicious. If Harry couldn't trust him, then what could he do? Would Draco... 

_DUCK!_ Harry reacted on instinct at the shouted order in his mind, flattening himself down against his broom, instantly dropping five meters down. The bludger "whooshed" right above him, where is head had been moments earlier. Harry looked up at it, white-faced, heart beating fast in his chest, then immediately started scanning the ground. Standing under one of the bleachers, a sandwich in hand, stood Draco, looking up at Harry. Although he couldn't see the boy's face, Harry guessed he was smirking. _What are you doing up there, Harry?_ Draco continued to think to him. _That bludger could have taken your head off! Gryffindor is down thirty points! You better get your head back in the game and catch the damn snitch if you plan on losing to us in the finals!_

_Where have you been?_ Harry thought back. At that moment, Fred flew past him, shouting a "Sorry 'bout that, Harry," as he went. 

_Sleeping,_ Draco replied. Harry felt his heart freeze. 

That was a lie. He could feel it. Draco was lying to him. 

Oh, God. 

Harry got angry. 

He flew up high, searching for the snitch, determined to catch it so the game could end, so he could confront Draco, no, Malfoy about the game he was playing. And to think he'd been defending that bastard to Hermione! Furious, Harry planned to find any way he could to break the bond between him. He should have known better, he should have... 

Harry angled his broom down toward to the ground, Cho Chang by his side, as he streaked after the small, fluttering, golden ball hovering not twenty meters below him. Reaching out his hand, he scooped up the ball with ease, a loud whistle sounding, the stands erupting with both cheers and groans. Dropping to the pitch, Harry unceremoniously handed the snitch to Madame Hooch, then walked quickly off the field and into the locker room, his expression stormy. 

* * * * * * 

The Great Hall was noisy, with the noted exception of the Slytherin table, which remained rooted in distrustful silence. Draco looked around, watching his friends and classmates eat their food, feeling a little queasy. He wasn't very hungry after the ungodly amount of food Dobby and the other House-elves had showered him with. Regardless, he picked up his glass of pumpkin juice, taking a deep draught of the sweet, spiced drink, before setting the glass back on the table. 

"Good game," Blaise finally ventured softly, taking a small bite of bread. 

"Not bad," Draco agreed. "Although I only saw the last part of it." 

"I liked the part where Potter almost got hit by the bludger," Gregory added, sticking his fork into his meal, getting a good amount of it and shoving it into his mouth. The Slytherins around Draco chuckled and he forced a small smile, then tried to look around Vince at Harry. 

The Gryffindor was facing away from him, hunched over his food. Draco could almost imagine storm clouds gathering around his head. He wondered what had gotten him so upset. 

"Is anyone else starting to feel really tired?" Pansy asked, pushing back her empty plate. 

"I know what you mean," Vincent replied, yawning a little. "Where are we going to sleep tonight?" 

As if on cue, the Headmaster rose from his chair, his normally bright eyes weary, and addressed the room, the Slytherin table in particular. "Those of you whom I have already spoken to know where you will be this evening. The rest of you will report to your dorms." The Headmaster turned to the Gryffindor table and smiled. "Congratulations to both teams for a well played and exciting game!" There was scattered, half-hearted applause all around and the Headmaster sat back down. 

"Let's go back to the dorm, now," Pansy suggested, yawning. "I'm really worn out. Quidditch days always take it out of me." 

"At least it's Saturday tomorrow," Blaise said, rising from his chair and stretching. "That means we can sleep in." 

"Yes," Draco agreed, standing up and looking around. Almost everyone was filtering out of the Great Hall, no doubt towards their dorms. "Yes," Draco repeated, "let's get some sleep." As he and his friends left the hall, Draco caught the alert eyes of his godfather. Draco gave Severus a brief smile, then followed his friends down to the dungeon. 

* * * * * * 

"What the HELL?" Harry blinked stupidly, sitting up on an unfamiliar bed. Draco sat nearby, stretched out in an opulent looking chaise lounge chair, giving him a mild, mellow look. 

"What's wrong?" he asked him, tone calm and even. 

"I was just sitting in the common room, talking to Ron, and all of the sudden I'm..." Harry trailed off, looking around, confused. "Wait, where the hell am I? 

Harry found himself in a large, luxuriously furnished bedroom, the huge four-poster bed he was currently sitting on fitted with silky, eggshell colored satin sheets. Two doors led out from the room, one leading to a comfortable looking seating area, the other to what looked like an extensive library with an ornately carved wooden desk. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, while candles flickered on every available surface, a floor to ceiling glass door leading out onto an expansive balcony overlooking a what Harry could tell was a gorgeous view, even though it was nighttime outside. 

"This is the place I feel safest in the world," Draco explained, "my quarters in the Manor." 

"Your _bedroom_?" Harry cried, leaping off the bed as if it had burned him, backing away as far from Draco as he could. 

"Yes..." Draco said, looking at Harry with concern. 

"Oh, this is _rich_!" Harry shouted with a laugh. "I can't believe this! That you would stoop this low..." 

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Draco asked, rising from his chair and walking towards him. 

"Don't pretend you don't know!" Harry yelled, pointing his finger accusingly at Draco. "Hermione, she hit it right on the head! You're a Slytherin! I never should have trusted you! You've been using me this whole time!" 

"What?" Draco shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Granger... using you... wait, back up. What?" 

"You _lied_ to me!" Harry told him. "Today! At the Quidditch match! When I asked you where you were, you said you were sleeping, but you were lying to me! I could feel it!" 

"I didn't--" 

"Yes, you did!" Harry said, taking another step backwards. "I can feel it when you're lying! Don't you dare do it again!" 

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Okay," he admitted. "I wasn't sleeping. Happy now?" 

"No!" Harry replied. "I want you to tell me exactly why you weren't at the Quidditch match today!" 

"I can't," Draco said softly, closing his eyes. 

"This is just _sick_, Malfoy!" Harry fumed. Draco cringed at the use of his last name. 

"Please, I would tell you if I could, Harry, I swear, but it's just too important, and," Draco paused, looking intently at Harry, trying to make him understand. "If you knew, and if it came out that you knew, you'd be in a lot of trouble Harry." 

"Oh, don't tell me this is for my own good?" Harry laughed, incredulous. 

"It is, Harry, I swear," Draco insisted. Harry narrowed his eyes. 

"Stop talking to me like that," he said, voice low and dark. 

"Like what?" Draco asked. 

"Stop talking to me like we're friends," Harry hissed. "We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend. I promise you, as soon as I figure out a way to break this bond between us, I will." 

"Harry.." Draco pleaded. 

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, then turned, walking quickly towards the door leading to the study. 

"Where are you going?" Draco called after him. 

Harry looked back over his shoulder, eyes blazing. "To spend the rest of this horrible dream away from you!" he growled, then disappeared into the study, slamming the door behind him. 

Draco sighed, sitting down on his bed, biting his bottom lip. Blinking back a traitorous tear, he laid down on his side, pulling his knees up to his chest, and wished he would wake up soon. 

"Damn it," he whispered and closed his eyes. 

* * * * * * 

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes. First, that terrible dream, and now, a crick in his neck. Just what he needed. Plus, the floor was really cold. 

Wait... the floor? 

Harry sat up quickly, then regretted the action, his hand flying to the back of his head. He felt a bump the size of a goose egg under his fingers, radiating pain through his skull. Looking around, Harry got a bad feeling in his stomach. 

He was sitting on the floor in the common room, apparently having fallen off the long couch he'd been sitting on the night before. Ron was half-on and half-off the piece of furniture, similarly waking up. Hermione was also on the couch, blinking as she uncurled from her side, confused. 

"Wha...?" Ron asked, trying to get himself sitting upright. 

Harry didn't have an answer. A glance out the tower window told him it was well past noon. A quick glance around the common room confirmed that everyone who'd been involved in the post-Quidditch victory party had fallen asleep, very suddenly, where they'd been standing or sitting. Hermione jumped off the couch, panicked. 

"What happened?" she cried, echoing the question running through everyone's head. "It's so late! How could we fall asleep in our clothes? In the common room?" 

Before anyone could reply, the portrait door to the room swung open, revealing a very disheveled Professor McGonagall. 

"Prefects!" she said loudly and firmly. "Gather your Housemates together and bring them to the Great Hall immediately! No dawdling!" 

"Professor..." started a meek sounding Ginny. 

"Not now, Ms. Weasley," McGonagall scolded. "Ms. Granger, get everyone to the Great Hall right now!" 

"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied quickly. The Professor disappeared out the door and Hermione was in her element. "You heard her, everybody! Seamus, go up the boys' side of the dorm and bring anyone there down. Ginny, the same, on the girls' side!" Seamus and Ginny nodded, hurrying up their respective dorms. "Everyone else, follow me!" she finished, leading them out of the common room. Harry and Ron hung back a moment and took up the rear, shuffling along with the rest of their dorm out of the common room. 

"What do you think happened, Harry?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. 

"I don't know," he replied. 

"It's weird, everyone falling asleep like that," Ron pressed on. "It's like we were drugged or something." 

Harry stopped short, eyes going wide. The _vial_! Of course! Malfoy must have... 

"Harry?" Ron asked him, grabbing his arm to tug him along. "What is it?" 

"Nothing," Harry said shortly, scowling, determined to talk to Professor Dumbledore at first opportunity. 

The Great Hall was full of students, all dressed as they were the night before, talking nervously amongst themselves. Even the teachers appeared to have been affected, clothes rumpled in a slept-in kind of way. Professor Dumbledore stood up from where he was seated at the teacher's table, deep in discussion with Remus. 

"Children!" he called and everyone went silent. "Please take your normal seats!" Harry sat down, facing away towards the wall, Ron on his left. Hermione sat across from them. Suddenly, she gasped. 

"Harry!" she whispered. "Harry, look!" Harry turned around to where she was pointing and felt his breath leave him. 

At least half of the students in the Slytherin House were missing. 

To be continued... 

A/N 2: Heh.   
The, "You make me want to puke." "You make me think somebody already did," joke? That comes from "The Secret of Monkey Island," an old rpg computer game from "Lucas Arts." Fantastic game! Well worth playing!   
Oh, remember the angst I said that wouldn't be coming? I lied. Next Chapter: Harry screws everything up by not trusting Draco, Moody arrives and boy is he unhappy, Snape finds himself in a bit of trouble, and "Sesha's" identity is revealed (if you haven't already figured it out). Cheers! Thanks for reading! Review if you wish! 


	10. Chapter Nine

A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter... college is pain. Too much homework, not enough time to write. Quick shout-out to those who reviewed: chrisseee667, WildfireFriendship, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, Fyre Eye, Avada Kedavra, Erana, StarCat13, dancing-girl, and Carmilla de Lestance! This story is for you and everyone who reviewed before you! Thanks a million! Enjoy!

Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter IX

  


Harry looked over at the Slytherin table in shock, the whole Hall falling silent with him. The number of empty seats at the table on the far side of the room was startling, to say the least. Most of the students in his own year numbered along the missing. Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode, and... 

Draco Malfoy. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. 

Dumbledore cleared his throat and Harry looked back at the teachers' table. The Headmaster was staring at the Slytherin table, an unreadable expression on his face. He said nothing for a moment, then cleared his throat again. 

"As you all can see," he began slowly, "something has occurred. For unknown reasons, a sleeping draught of some kind tainted our meal the night before and several students are now missing this morning. I can assure all of you that we are investigating this and will find a resolution. For now, I'm asking that all students remain in their Houses for the rest of the day. Prefects, please walk your classmates back to the dorms. Food will be brought to you there. Thank you." 

With little fanfare, Dumbledore sat down again, once more conferring with several of the teachers. Silence hung in the Great Hall for a moment more before Hermione stood up. 

"Gryffindors, follow me," she said, her voice ringing loudly through the hall. The other prefects soon followed her lead and started gathering their Houses together. Harry rose from his seat and started to follow the herd out of the room. Ron fell into step at his side. 

"Why would someone steal Slytherins?" mused the redhead. "Not that I mind them gone, but still..." 

Harry shrugged, but didn't reply. Ron paused mid-step, staring at the teachers' table. Harry glanced over at him. 

"What is it?" he asked. Ron frowned. 

"Where's Snape?" 

Harry spun around, looking at the gathered Professors. Ron was right. Professor Snape wasn't among them. 

A younger student jostled him from behind and he was pushed out of the Great Hall, the worried and angry faces of the professors lost from his sight. 

* * * * * * 

Severus slumped down in his favorite chair in his office, a plush, old-fashioned, muggle recliner he usually kept in the corner of the room so it wouldn't be sat on by obtrusive guests. A cup of very strong coffee was balanced in one hand, the other hand rubbing into his temples as he tried to force away the headache that had taken up residence there from, oh, since he was born. He sipped the coffee and hissed, the potent liquid burning his tongue. 

"Dammit!" he grumbled, juggling the cup so it wouldn't spill on himself or the furniture, gingerly banishing the steaming mug to a nearby side-table. 

"Too hot?" asked an all-too-chipper voice. 

"Shut up, Mr. Malfoy," Severus growled, glaring at the boy from where he was perched on the Potion Master's desk, a book open on his lap, still-sore leg elevated on a charmed, floating pillow. Draco smiled at his Godfather. 

"You should try to relax a little," he suggested. "The hard part is over. The Plan went off without a hitch." Severus sniffed. 

"The Plan may have succeeded, but we still have the fall-out to handle," he reminded the boy. "Somehow, I don't think forty-seven missing students will go unnoticed for long." 

Draco turned his head, wincing at little at the movement, and glanced at the clock resting above the fireplace mantle. "I'm sure they've already noticed," he said mildly, looking back at Severus. "I didn't eat much last night and I've been up for almost two hours, so everyone else should be moving around already." 

"You should probably leave then," Severus said, rising wearily to his feet. "It won't take them long to figure out I was the only one who could mix the potion. There's no sense in implicating the both of us." 

Draco nodded and carefully lowered his leg from the floating pillow, standing up and hobbling over to return the book he'd been reading to the shelf. "Where should I go?" Draco asked. "I don't think it would be safe for me to return to the dorms right now." 

Severus was about to answer, but was cut off by a loud shrieking coming from a small orb on his desk. With a low curse, Severus walked swiftly over to the table, waving his hand over the noisy object to silence it. Draco looked at the door, alarmed. 

"Get in the lab," Severus instructed him, shoving Draco into his private potions lab and shutting door. Seconds later, the door his office swung open, Headmaster Dumbledore striding into the room, Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin, and that damn dog close on his heals. As soon as they were all inside, Remus closed the door and cast a silence and locking spell. The dog shuddered a moment on the floor, then materialized into the scowling form of Sirius Black. 

"What did you do, Snape?" Sirius growled, standing up. 

"Sirius, please let me handle this," said the Headmaster gently, then turned back to the Potions Master. "Severus," he began, "what did you _do_?" 

Severus sighed and briefly closed his eyes. "What I had to," he replied shortly, looking back at the Headmaster, face held carefully impassive. 

"Forty-eight students!" Professor McGonagall cried angrily. "How did you manage to make forty-eight students vanish overnight? And why?" 

"Forty-seven," Severus corrected. 

"What?" Remus asked, furrowing his brow. 

"Forty-seven," repeated the Potion's Master. "Not forty-eight. That's how many students are gone." 

"We counted forty-eight," McGonagall said snippily. 

"Yes," Severus replied slowly. "Mr. Malfoy was here this morning. He woke up a few hours before the rest of his House and came straight to me. I've since sent him back to his dorm." 

"So, he was a part of all this?" Remus asked. Severus rolled his eyes. 

"Don't be stupid, Lupin," he said. "He's just a child." 

"You still haven't answered why you did this," Dumbledore reminded him, his face dark. Severus sighed and crossed him arms over his chest, leaning back against the edge of his desk. 

"It wasn't safe for them here," he stated simply. 

"Hogwarts is the safest place in the world!" Professor McGonagall countered shrilly. 

"For your Gryffindors, perhaps," Severus spat, glaring at her. "And maybe for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as well. But certainly not for the students in my House. The first fight broke out yesterday within the House. It would only have gotten worse. I remember what it was like during the last war, when I was in school." He turned a slightly accusing eye on Dumbledore. "You're bringing in a lot of people from the old Order. Several of them have made threats against these children and their parents. They weren't safe here." 

"No one from the Order would attack children," Sirius said, his tone exasperated. 

"Yes, they would." Severus stood up straight, his fists clenching at his side. "Those on the side of light aren't very different from those on the side of the dark. Only our outlook is dissimilar. The methods are very much the same. If you think that people like Fletcher or Moody would hesitate for a second should the opportunity present itself for a little revenge against what these children's parents may or may not have done during the last war, then you're deluding yourself." 

Sirius growled and took a menacing step forward. "You pompous, little---" he began. 

"Where are they?" Dumbledore asked quickly, effectively cutting off anything more Sirius might say. Severus shook his head. 

"I'm not telling you." 

"Well, do their parents know where they are, at least?" Remus asked. Again, Severus shook his head. 

"No," he said. "Nobody knows, with the exception of myself and those who helped me move them to safe harbors. Even I'm not entirely sure where they all ended up. I just know for certain that they are safe." 

"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said, frowning. "I can't say I'm pleased with this situation, nor can I imagine why you thought you had to go over my head. But, I suppose what's done cannot be undone." 

"Thank you, Headmaster," Severus replied. 

"Don't thank me yet," continued the older man. "Those that you moved out, you're certain they're not loyal to Voldemort?" 

"Absolutely," Severus said with a sharp nod. 

"So those who stayed are?" Sirius asked. Severus shot him a look. 

"No, not all of them," he snapped. "A few chose to remain, regardless of the danger and against my better judgement. Even the ones that think they are loyal to the Dark Lord... please try to remember that they are just children! You give up on them now and you've lost them forever." 

"The voice of experience," Remus said softly. 

Severus sighed again. "Very nearly so, yes." 

Dumbledore shook his head and ran a hand over his face. "Alright, Severus," said the old man tiredly. "Can you at least promise me you won't do this again?" 

"I don't think I could pull it off twice," Severus replied with just a hint of a smirk. McGonagall sniffed. 

"It's not amusing, young man," she said haughtily, then turned to look at Dumbledore. "What are we going to do now?" 

"The students are safe," the Headmaster declared, "now that we are certain that those who vanished did so under positive circumstances. Classes will continue as usual. I do not think the students need to be confined to the dorms any longer." 

"I'll go inform my House, then," McGonagall said with a nod, "and I'll instruct Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout to do the same." She turned a shrewd eye to the Potions Master. "I'm assuming you can take care of your own House, Severus?" she asked him, slightly sarcastic. 

"Oh, I think I can handle it," he replied, matching her tone perfectly. 

"Good," Dumbledore said. He turned to Sirius and nodded. Shooting one final glare at Severus, Sirius sank to all fours, morphing into his canine counterpart. "Remus, if you please," added the Headmaster, inclining his head towards the door. The werewolf undid the locking spell and the door swung open. Professor McGonagall, Remus, and Snuffles walked out of the office, Dumbledore following. He turned back and gave Severus a very pointed look. 

"Don't do something like this again," he warned him, his voice foreboding. Severus nodded and the Headmaster left, closing the door behind him. With a deep sigh, Severus recast the locking spell and once again activated the proximity orb on his desk. Sinking back down into his favorite armchair, Severus looked towards the door to his private lab. 

"You can come out now," he called to Draco. The door opened, squeaking loudly on its hinges. Draco hobbled out of the room, looking towards the exit of the office. 

"That could have gone worse," he mused, giving his Godfather a small, half-smile. 

"True," Severus conceded darkly. "I could be out on the steps of the castle with my possessions in a box." 

"Well, you aren't, so that's a victory, right?" Draco offered, trying to sound uplifting. Severus shrugged noncommittally. 

"Perhaps," he replied. "I just hope your father knows what he's doing." 

"He has a good track record for that sort of thing," the boy reminded him. He looked towards the door again. "I guess I should head back to the dorm, safe or not. It'll look suspicious if I don't." 

Severus pushed himself out of his chair. "I guess you should," he agreed. Draco nodded and started to limp his way out of the room, when Severus cleared his throat. "You know," he said, "you're looking a lot better." 

Draco looked back at his Godfather, then looked himself up and down. "I guess that's true, if you think contusions all over my body, a busted knee, and black eye are sexy," he said, gracing Severus with a confused look. The Potions Master gave a low chuckle and shook his head. 

"I didn't mean that," he explained. "I meant that you don't look as exhausted as you did. Are the dreams improving?" 

Draco swallowed hard and didn't look at his Godfather right away. "They were," he finally answered, "but last night's was really bad." Severus frowned. 

"The potion I gave you to improve your sleep is starting to wear off, no doubt," he said. "That's probably why you're losing control over the dreams again." 

"Maybe," Draco replied evasively. 

"I suppose tonight is as good as any to teach you how to make the potion," Severus continued. "It isn't very difficult and has few ingredients. Your standard base, crushed magroot, an infusion of wormwart, a few night-blooming laurel petals..." 

"We don't have any night-blooming laurel," Draco said, interrupting the list. Severus looked at him, furrowing his brow. 

"Pardon?" he asked. 

"We don't have any of that laurel," Draco repeated. "I did the inventory the day before yesterday, remember? I gave you the list." 

Severus reached down to his desk, moving a stack of ungraded essays out of the way before finally finding the clipboard Draco had handed him earlier, having completely forgotten about it what with everything that was happening. He flipped through the pages, frowning every now and again. 

"Damn," he muttered. "How come the usage counts never add up with the inventory?" Draco raised an eyebrow and Severus sighed. "I hate Gryffindors," said the older man, rolling his eyes and dropping the clipboard. "I just hope they don't blow something up." 

Draco laughed, then tilted his head in thought. "Professor Sprout has night-blooming laurel growing in Greenhouse D, doesn't she?" he asked. Severus nodded. 

"I believe she does." He leaned over his desk, pulling out a clean scrap of paper and lifting his quill. "I'll write you a note asking her for permission to borrow some," Severus said, scratching out a quick letter. "You'll have to get it after dark tonight." 

"That shouldn't be a problem. Nightfall isn't too far away. I'll just go get it before dinner," Draco said, taking the proffered note and slipping it into his pocket. Severus nodded, then paused a moment before walking rapidly around his desk. Mindful of the younger boy's injuries, he wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulder and pulled him into a quick hug. 

"Um, Severus?" Draco asked, slightly muffled, his face against his Godfather's chest. Severus stepped back out of the hug and ruffled Draco's hair. 

"Sorry," he said softly. "It's been a rough week. I look at you, at it feels like just yesterday I was carrying you around the Manor. I can't believe how grown-up your getting." 

Draco rolled his eyes upward and waved a hand over his head, the looked back at his Godfather. "I wouldn't be opposed to a few more inches," he informed him. Severus laughed. 

"I'm afraid heredity is working against you," he said with a smile. "You are so much like your mother - in build and in spirit." 

"Just what every teenage boy wants to be told," Draco replied dryly. Severus laughed again, then turned Draco around, opening the door and pushing him through it. 

"Get going, then," he said, "and be careful." 

"I always am," Draco called over his shoulder, then disappeared down the corridor. Severus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and shook his head, smiling slightly. 

* * * * * * 

The late afternoon sun beat down on Alastor Moody as he walked across the Hogwarts grounds. Even though it was mid-October, the air felt warm and humid and it was making him irritable. Finally, he made it to the castle steps, starting the trek into the ancient building, only to be blocked by a large, half-giant. 

"Hello, Hagrid," growled the Auror, trying to step around him. The half-giant looked down at him in surprise. 

"Moody!" he boomed. "Are you here 'ta meet with Dumbledore about the disappearances?" Moody blinked his good eye, the other spinning wildly around in its socket. 

"What are you talking about?" he asked, voice harsh. 

"Oh, I thought you knew," Hagrid mused, reaching up a hand to scratch his beard. "A lot of the Slytherin students disappeared this mornin'." 

Moody clenched his fists. "Which ones?" he asked shortly. Hagrid shrugged. 

"Parkinson, I know that. Crabbe, Goyle, Hethern, Willis... a lot of them," he replied. 

"Dammit!" Moody yelled. "Out of my way!" He pushed past the half-giant and rushed into the castle. Hagrid turned, watching him go, then shrugged again and continued on his way to his hut. 

* * * * * * 

Harry threw open the lid of his footlocker, digging through the junk on top, searching for something he desperately needed. Ron watched him from where he sat on his bed, a concerned expression on his face. It was only the two of them in the room, the rest of their dormmates hanging around with most of the House in the common room. 

"What are you looking for?" Ron asked, munching on a sandwich the house elves had brought him. 

"The Marauder's Map," Harry told him, giving a little shout of victory when he finally found the elusive piece of paper. Ron jumped off the bed and walked over to him, looking down at the blank sheet. Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and tapped it on the parchment. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he said quietly and the map of the ground level wavered into view. 

"Who are we trying to find?" Ron said, squinting at the paper. Harry shook his head, but didn't reply, tapping the wand on the paper the go through the many floors of the school. Ron halted the movement, staring at the corridor that led to Professor Dumbledore's office. "Alastor Moody?" he read off the paper. "What's he doing here?" 

"I don't know," Harry said, continuing flipping through the levels. Finally, he stopped. "Found you," he muttered, nodding once and folding up the map. He rushed out of the room before Ron could even process what was going on. 

"Found who?" he called after Harry's retreating form, but his question went unanswered. 

* * * * * * 

Draco limped down the hall, a spring not necessarily in his step, but certainly in his heart. Professor Sprout had readily given permission to borrow some of the laurel, on the condition that Severus would give her a hand mixing a plant food potion she'd found but was having difficulty with. Professor Sprout and Severus got a long fairly well, mostly because the Potions Master held her craft in high respect, since the quality of potion components could make or break a difficult brew, while Professor Sprout was always pleased her plants were being used well. 

Without warning and hand reached out and grabbed Draco's arm, dragging him suddenly into an empty corridor. Draco gasped, feeling his knee twist painfully at the action. He looked around, trying to see who was responsible. 

"Harry?" he asked, meeting a set of furious green eyes. 

"I know what you did," Harry growled angrily. "I know Snape passed you a something during potions class yesterday and I know you were lying about where you were during the Quidditch game. Don't think I'm not going to tell Professor Dumbledore exactly what your role was in all of this." 

Draco shook his head, not liking where this was going. "Harry, please..." 

"I said not to call me that!" Harry yelled. "So where are they now, Malfoy? Are they all dead? Did they get in your way? Did you have to get rid of them?" 

"What?" Draco asked, incredulous. "Are you serious? Of course not! They're my friends!" 

"You don't even know what a friend is!" Harry snapped. "You helped drug us all so you could get rid of half of your House! Where are they, Malfoy?" 

"I don't know," Draco said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Yeah, right," Harry said. "Like I can believe you!" 

"It's the truth!" Draco insisted. "I _don't_ know where they are! All I know for certain is that they're safe!" 

"They were _safe_ at Hogwarts," Harry countered. 

"You are so naive, Potter!" Draco shouted back. "You really have no concept of how the world works, do you?" 

"You're right!" Harry yelled. "I have no concept of how your world works! And I'm glad for it!" 

"Forget it." Draco turned around and walked out of the corridor. "Just, forget it Harry," he called over his shoulder. "You don't understand anything and you never will, so let's just forget everything!" 

"I'm telling Dumbledore what you did!" Harry shouted back to him. "Don't think I won't!" 

"Fine!" Draco replied in kind. "Do whatever you want!" He turned the corner and disappeared from view. Harry let out a low curse and took off in the opposite direction. 

A few moments later, Alastor Moody stepped out from where he'd been listening in from the shadows of another hallway, looking after Draco with an odd expression on his face. 

* * * * * * 

"Mudblood." 

The statue blocking the entrance to the Slytherin dorms hopped out of the way as Draco muttered the password, the blond carefully stepping through the archway and into the common room. The room was empty, with the exception of Blaise Zabini, who was sitting on one of the luxurious couches stretched out along the back wall, curled around a book. He looked up as Draco entered and flashed him a winning smile. 

"Hey, Drake," he said, scooting over a little as Draco collapsed tiredly next to him. "Where have you been all morning... or afternoon, rather?" 

"Hell." Draco closed his eye and propped his throbbing knee up on the coffee table set out before the couch, wincing a little at the motion. 

"Oh," Blaise replied, giving him a mild look. "I hear it's very nice this time of year." 

Draco sighed and opened his eyes, looking at his friend. "Blaise, can I ask you for some advice?" 

"You want to ask me for advice?" Blaise asked, surprised. "I don't think anyone's ever done that before!" 

"There's a first time for everything," Draco said, smiling a little. 

"Alright," Blaise said, sitting up and taking a deep breath. "Ask away." 

"Well," Draco began slowly, "suppose there's this person, who really likes this other person, well, not 'likes' exactly, but thinks they might like, maybe." 

"Okay..." Blaise scratched his head. "Want to try it again with clarity?" 

Draco ignored him. "Anyway, there are these two people and it looked like they might be starting to like each other, but these people are from very different worlds and the person the person likes is possibly involved with something that the person who likes him can't understand and gets angry and thinks that person has been lying the entire time. What should that person do about it?" 

"Now, let me get this straight," Blaise said after a few seconds. "There's a person, and for sanity's sake, I'm going to assume it's you, okay?" Draco nodded. "Alright, you like somebody, but they live in a very different world from you and they found out about...well," Blaise gestured to the empty common room and Draco nodded again, "so they think they can't trust you anymore and the two of you just had a big fight. Am I right?" 

"Pretty much," Draco said with a sigh. Blaise nodded sagely, then thought a moment. 

"When you say, 'different world,' how different are we talking?" he asked. 

Draco shrugged. "Very different. Different outlook on life, different ideas, different House..." 

"Is it a Gryffindor?" Blaise asked, trying to prevent himself from pulling a face at the idea. Draco nodded almost imperceptibly. Blaise let out a low whistle and sank back against the couch. "Oh, boy," he muttered. "Very good, Draco." 

"I didn't mean for it to happen!" Draco protested. "It just... did." 

"Well, who is it?" Blaise asked. Draco shook his head and the other boy rolled his eyes. "You might as well tell me," Blaise said. "I already know it's a Gryffindor. How much more embarrassing can it be?" 

"I'm not telling you," Draco said shortly. 

"Don't tell me it's Harry Potter?" Blaise chuckled. Draco sighed again and sank into the couch, closing his eyes. Blaise's eyes went wide as saucers. "Don't tell me it's Harry Potter!" he said again. 

Draco buried his head in his hands and moaned softly. 

"Ugh!" Blaise cried, jumping up from the couch. "Ugh! Gross! Yuck! Drake, no!" 

Draco raised his head and glared at his friend. "Blaise, you're not being supportive." 

"I know! It's just... it's..." The other boy threw his hands up in the air, then collapsed back on the couch. "You're right," he said tiredly. "I'm sorry. It's just... it took me by surprise, that's all." 

"Join the club," Draco said moodily. Blaise sighed again. 

"Okay, so... Harry Potter." His mouth twisted on the name, but he didn't make any further comment, which Draco was grateful for. "I can see why you're having problems." 

"Thanks." 

"No, seriously," Blaise continued. "Now, this is the way I see it. Relationships - lasting relationships - are built on one of two things. The first is money. Those are my parents. When I was a kid, my mother and father had so many lovers tramping through the house I wasn't even sure who my parents were!" 

"I remember that," Draco said with a smile. 

"Right," Blaise agreed. "Now, my parents are only together, in fact, only got together, because it was and remains a mutually profitable decision. The other is love. That is your parents." 

"I suppose that's true," Draco mused. 

"Of course it's true!" Blaise said happily. "I mean, your parents would still be in love even if, God forbid, they were living in a tiny shack with a dirt floor!" 

"God forbid," Draco warned him. 

"God forbid," repeated Blaise. "It doesn't matter that they probably met at some high society function, the point is..." 

"Actually," Draco interjected, "they met in a muggle jail." Blaise blinked. 

"They WHAT?" he gasped. Draco nodded. 

"Well, you see," he explained, "my father and some of his friends decided to slum it in the muggle part of town one night. They had gotten a little drunk he inadvertently started a bar fight after hitting on a woman who didn't appreciate it. He was arrested for disorderly conduct. He ended up with a broken jaw." 

"And your mother?" 

"Oh, well she was booked for assault after attacking a man in a bar and breaking his jaw." 

Blaise stared at Draco in shock. "Your mother..." he began slowly. "Your sweet, tiny, mother attacked your father after he hit on her, broke his jaw, and they were both _arrested_?" 

Draco smiled. "It was love at first punch." 

Blaise sat very still for a moment. "This explains a lot," he finally said. 

"It does?" 

"Yes," Blaise replied. "Your parents' relationship was originally founded on violence, yet it was that violence that led to love. Maybe that's why you're attracted to Harry. Your relations in the past have certainly been volatile enough." 

"Perhaps," Draco hedged, "but..." 

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs from the boys' dormitories. Bane Relesky, followed closely by several of his friends, marched into the common room, looking as evil and as intimidating as they ever did. 

Draco wasn't impressed. 

"Well, well, well," Bane said, looking at the two of them. "Isn't this cozy." 

"It was," Blaise snapped, glaring. 

"It's a pity you two didn't vanish with the rest of the squibs," Bane went on. He cracked his knuckles. "Maybe we should rectify that situation." 

"Maybe you should go stuff your head in a lit cauldron," Draco returned easily. Bane bristled. 

"I'm watching you, Malfoy," he said darkly, rudely leaning into Draco's personal space. "I know you're a part of this in some way. If you're thinking about betraying our Dark Lord, you'd better watch your step. Maybe _you_ will just... vanish." 

"And if you would only do the same, my day would be complete," Draco quipped. Bane stood up straight and smirked. With a nod to his friends, the Slytherins started to make their way out of the common room to head to dinner. Bane paused on the way out, looking over his shoulder. 

"See you around, Malfoy," he said, still smirking, then disappeared out the door. Blaise sat back and sighed. 

"Ready to eat?" he asked Draco. The blond shook his head, gingerly rising to his feet, Blaise also rising and giving him a hand. 

"I have to do a favor for Professor Snape first," he informed his friend with a thankful nod as they walked slowly out of the common room, heading up the stairs leading out of the dungeon. After climbing what felt like forever to Draco, they finally reached the ground level landing. "Save me a seat?" Draco asked him, turning to go in the opposite direction from the Great Hall, needing to visit the greenhouses. 

"Will do!" Blaise told him, then walked off. Draco smiled after him, then turned to walk outside. 

* * * * * * 

The moon was nearly full overhead, the sky clear and filled with stars. Even from this distance, Draco could hear the owls just starting to wake up, hooting and squawking. A cool wind rushed across the ground and Draco shivered, pulling his robes tighter around him, thankful to have finally reached the greenhouses, uncomfortable with the chill. The glass door opened silently and a small orb filled with light at his entrance. He scanned the room, then saw the laurel, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw the pure white petals practically glowing in the dim light, glad that they were blooming. 

It didn't take long to gather a handful of the petals, scooping them easily into the small glass jar he'd brought with him. Sealing the jar tightly, he held it up to eye level and gave a swift nod, satisfied that he had enough. Pulling his robes around him again, he walked out of the greenhouse, turning to close the door behind him, looking forward to getting to dinner, Bane Relesky aside. 

Turning towards the castle, Draco gasped as a dark figure stepped out of the shadows, wand raised and pointing straight at his heart. The glass jar of laurel petals crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces. 

"Oh, Hell," Draco muttered, barely having enough time to instinctively raise his arms to shield his head. 

* * * * * * 

Harry moodily poked at his dinner, not feeling very hungry, his mind on Draco. He'd been two steps away from Dumbledore's office after their confrontation before he lost his nerve and had gone back to the Gryffindor common room. The questions whirled about in his head - Draco had sounded sincere. Maybe he wasn't lying. Maybe the missing students were okay. But, if Draco had been doing something to help his friends, why not let Dumbledore in on it? 

Harry wasn't sure what to think anymore. He looked over at the near-empty Slytherin table, frowning as he realized Draco wasn't there. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his fork on the table and pushed his plate away. 

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked him, looking worried. She'd seen him looking across the room and it troubled her. 

"Yeah, just not very hungry," Harry replied, standing up. "I think I'm just going to head back to the dorm." 

"You sure?" Ron asked, also concerned, especially after being witness to Harry's odd behavior just a few hours ago. 

"I'm sure," he said, walking around the table, heading towards the exit of the Hall. "I'll see you guys...." Harry trailed off, suddenly swaying on his feet, a hand dropping down to clutch the table, the other hand flying to the scar on his forehead. 

"Harry?" Ron asked with alarm, jumping to his feet, Hermione by his side. Harry didn't reply, his eyes wide and unfocused, his face pale and his breathing erratic. "Harry?" Ron asked again, stepping over to help his friend. 

Suddenly, Harry screamed, collapsing on the floor into a fetal position, his head buried in his arms. He screamed and screamed and kept right on screaming, even as half the school rose from their seats in alarm, Ron grabbing on to his arm, trying to help him, Madame Pomfrey rushing down from the teachers' table. 

He kept screaming until, just as suddenly, he stopped, eyes wide and glassy, limp as a rag doll on the floor. 

The hall, with the exception of the ghosts of Harry's agonized screams still echoing in the rafters, fell completely silent. 

To be continued...

A/N 2: Heh. Sorry to leave you hanging like this... oh wait... no I'm not. ^_^ Next Chapter: Aw, no next chapter. I think this is a good place to end it. *ducks* Okay, okay! Sheesh. Draco's been attacked, but who did it? Now that Harry is twitching about on the floor of the Great Hall, will the secret connection he's sharing with Draco come out? Also, find out what the most dangerous animal in the world is... All in the next chapter of "Breaking Destiny!"  
Also, after I finish "Breaking Destiny" I will no longer be up loading to fanfiction.net. I'll be setting up an announcement list for my fics on my website in the next few weeks so you'll can still be in the loop. Thank you to everyone for their great reviews and support! 


	11. Chapter Ten

A/N: Hey everybody! Thanks for sticking with me! Thanks also to everyone who reviewed: Myr, mistykasumi, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, Draco Dormiens, ebr, Sheron, Carmilla de Lestance, WildfireFriendship, charzy, and Sue! You guys are great! Here's the next chapter!

Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter X

  


Chaos erupted in the Great Hall as students and teachers broke from their stunned silence, some moving towards the fallen form of Harry Potter, others backing away in fear. Madame Pomfrey pushed her way through the throng of confused people, Remus Lupin and his dog helping to blaze the way, Professor McGonagall following close behind them. All around, students were talking and shouting, some crying, others near panic. 

"QUIET!" The room fell silent at the magically amplified shout of the Headmaster, everyone stopping in their tracks, looking at the older man and awaiting his instructions. "Everyone return to your seats!" he continued. "No one is to leave the Great Hall! Prefects, help maintain order!" His proclamation ended, Dumbledore rushed down from the teachers' table to where the nurse was hovered over the unnaturally still boy. 

"How is he?" he asked softly. Madame Pomfrey shook her head. 

"I don't know," she returned, her hands on Harry's head. She looked up at the Headmaster. "I need to get him to the Medical Wing." 

"Remus?" Dumbledore asked the werewolf, who was already moving to pick Harry up. He lifted the boy effortlessly into his arms, carrying him as if he weighed no more than a heavy book. Dumbledore nodded and they, along with Professor McGonagall, started to make their way out of the Great Hall. 

"Headmaster?" Dumbledore turned to see the stricken-face of Hermione Granger, looking at Harry's limp form as he was carried from the Hall with fear and worry. 

"You need to stay here and help control your House, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore told her gently. 

"But... Harry..." she protested. Dumbledore shook his head. 

"As soon as I leave, everyone may start panicking," he said. "You have a very cool head, Ms. Granger. They'll need your strength." Hermione gave a slow nod, but didn't seem mollified. 

Dumbledore looked over at Ron. "Mr. Weasly, since you were so close to Harry when he was stricken, could you please come with me?" Ron nodded and followed the Headmaster out of the Hall. 

* * * * * * 

When Ron and the Headmaster finally arrived at the Medical Wing, Madame Pomfrey was already hard at work, Harry having been placed on one of the beds. She was muttering softly under her breath, her wand glowing a light blue as she held it above the boy's chest. 

"Anything?" the Dumbledore asked, Remus and Snuffles looking up from where they were sitting next the Harry, Professor McGonagall also standing nearby, twisting her hands. Madame Pomfrey shook her head. 

"I'm not detecting any curses," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "nor any poisons. It's like his mind is just... gone." She looked over where Ron was hovering behind the Headmaster, his face pale and eyes wide. "Mr. Weasley, did Harry do or say anything before he collapsed?" 

"N-no," Ron told her, his voice trembling. "He said he was tired and that he wanted to go back to the dorms. Then, he just started..." Ron closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "He just started screaming," he finished softly. 

"I'll have to run more tests," Madame Pomfrey said, her voice low. She bustled over to the cupboard above her desk, digging around inside until finally withdrawing an earthenware jar. Lifting the lid, she gave a low curse. "I'm out of fireweed," she told them. 

"There's some in the greenhouse. I can get it," Remus said, standing up. Snuffles let out a low whine, resting both his front paws on Harry's still form. Remus reached down and scratched the dog's head. "It'll be alright," he told him. Snuffles whined again and licked Remus' hand. Giving the dog one final pat, Remus walked quickly out of the Medical Wing. With a sigh, Dumbledore turned back to Ron. 

"Now, Mr. Weasly," he began slowly, "have you noticed Harry exhibiting any odd behavior before tonight? Anything you can think of at all?" 

Ron furrowed his brow, thinking. "Actually," he said, "there was something. He's been having some trouble sleeping recently and complaining about strange dreams. He seemed to be in a good mood the past couple of days, but yesterday he was really upset, especially after the Quidditch game. This afternoon, he was acting really strange, saying he needed to find someone." He looked up at the Headmaster, a suddenly anxious look on his face. "Do you think whoever he went to find did this to him? I should have asked him more about it!" 

"You can't blame yourself, Mr. Weasly," Dumbledore told him, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Madame Pomfrey, do you think..." he turned to look at the nurse, who was staring at Ron with alarm. "Poppy?" Dumbledore asked her, taking a step towards her. 

The nurse walked quickly over to Ron, grabbing onto his arm. "What did you say about dreams?" she asked him. Ron leaned back. 

"I... I'm not sure," he told her. "Harry just said he was having strange dreams. That's not anything really new, though." 

"Oh, that stupid boy," Madame Pomfrey growled, taking a step backing and putting a hand to her head. 

"What is it, Poppy?" Professor McGonagall asked quickly. "What's going on?" 

"Maybe nothing," she told him. "But to be on the safe side, we need to bring Severus and Mr. Malfoy in here right now." 

* * * * * * 

Remus ran to the greenhouses at a light jog, his senses, already heightened because of the nearness of the full moon, were extended as far as he could get them, constantly on the lookout for danger. His eyes did well in the dark night, aided by the light of the waxing moon, his ears picking up even the most subtle of sounds. As the greenhouses came into view, Remus slowed down his pace, his mind suddenly screaming danger. He stopped, stock still, trying to evaluate what had alerted his instinct. He sniffed and his nose twitched. 

Blood. 

He could smell blood. A lot of it, given the strength of the scent and the fact that the night was completely still. Heart pounding in his chest, Remus moved forward silently, crouching low towards the ground, his golden eyes dilating to take in even more of the dim light. When he reached to door to the greenhouse, he couldn't hold back a gasp. 

Someone had been attacked. The glass door and half of the front wall of the building was shattered inwards, the jagged edges of the glass dripping with blood. On the ground, a black streak was burned into the grass, a sure sign of the casting of a powerful curse. Remus stepped forward, smelling the blood and trying to ignore his growling stomach. 

The wolf in him howled with delight, insisting that he run off and try to find the wounded creature, whatever it was, and finish it off. The man in him demanded that he find the fireweed first and bring it back to the nurse. Harry was part of the pack, he assured the wilder part of his psyche, and the pack always came before blood sport. The wolf gave a growl of agreement and fell silent. 

Shaking his head to clear it, Remus carefully stepped through the broken glass, scanning the greenhouse for the fireweed. Many of the pots were tipped over on their sides from the blast of the curse, shattered pottery and dirt littering the floor. After a diligent search through the mess, Remus found what he was looking for and carefully left the greenhouse, fireweed in hand. He ran straight back to the castle as fast as he could. 

* * * * * * 

Severus Snape was already on his way to the Medical Wing when Ron Weasly came running around the corner. The redheaded boy skidded to a stop, slightly winded. He took a second to catch his breath, looking up at the imposing professor. 

"Madame Pomfrey needs to see you and Malfoy," he gasped. Severus nodded. 

"I'm already on my way there, Mr. Weasly," he informed the boy. Ron looked around. 

"I need to get Malfoy," he told the Potions Master. Severus shook his head. 

"Not right now," he said, the walked past Ron towards the Medical Wing. Ron shot him a glare and followed him back. 

When they arrived, Dumbledore looked up from where he was standing next to Harry, Snuffles giving a little grunt at Professor Snape's entrance. 

"Where's Mr. Malfoy?" the Headmaster asked him. 

"He never arrived at the Great Hall for dinner," Severus told him. Ron cursed. 

"He probably had something to do with this!" he cried. Severus gave him a cold look and seemed about to say something, when Remus burst into the room. 

"Something's happened," said the werewolf, handing the fireweed to Madame Pomfrey. "There's been an attack." 

"Slow down, Mr. Lupin," the Headmaster said. "Start from the beginning." 

Remus nodded and took a deep breath. "There's been an attack out by the greenhouse. Half of the building has been shattered and it looks like someone cast a powerful curse. The whole place is covered in blood." 

"My God," Madame Pomfrey gasped, looking up from where she was rapidly crushing the fireweed in a small mortar and pestle. "Who?" 

"I don't know," Remus said. "There was nobody there." 

A thump sounded in the room and they all turned to see Severus collapsed in a chair, his face white, his hands shaking. "Greenhouse D?" he asked, his voice wavering. 

Remus nodded. "Yes," he replied. 

"I sent Draco out there," Severus said, his voice constricted with horror and shock. "He needed to get some laurel for a sleeping potion I was going to teach him to make tonight." 

Dumbledore tugged on his beard in frustration. "Minervera," he said quickly, turning to look at the Professor, "I need you to go back to the Great Hall and get Hagrid and get some of the other teachers together to start going over the grounds. If Mr. Malfoy is injured and still here, we need to find him right away." He looked over at Remus. "I want you to go as well," he told the werewolf. "Your senses could help out a great deal." Remus nodded and he, along with Professor McGonagall, raced out of the room. Professor Snape rose to follow. 

"One moment, Severus," said the Headmaster. 

"He's my Godson," the Potions Master told him, voice filled with anguish. "I have to help find him." 

"I know," Dumbledore said, "but I need to know why you were going to teach Mr. Malfoy a sleeping potion." 

Before he could answer, Madame Pomfrey spoke up from where she was putting the finishing touches on the potion designed to revive Harry. "They must have been connected, Severus," she told him, ignoring Dumbledore's perplexed look. "He didn't tell us, but he must have known. Harry must have collapsed when Draco was attacked. That's why he doesn't have a curse signature." 

"I can't believe Draco wouldn't have told me about this," Severus said darkly. 

"Can someone please explain to me what's going on?" Dumbledore interjected before anymore could be said. Severus cast a look at the Headmaster, then took a deep breath and explained the attack on the train and the reflected spell. 

"But I had no idea he and Mr. Potter had formed a connection because of it," Severus finished. "Madame Pomfrey and I believed it would only truly effect Draco and therefore wasn't worth mentioning, since it left him with no permanent injuries." 

"I wish you had told me," Dumbledore said, looking down at Harry. Snuffles growled fiercely at Severus from where he was perched near the bed. The Headmaster placed a hand on the animagus' head to still him. "You've been keeping a lot of things from me these past few weeks, Severus." 

"We live in complicated times," Severus said shortly, having no room in his whirling emotions for guilt. Madame Pomfrey walked over to Harry and pulled him to a sitting position, a vial of brown-liquid in her hand. 

"If they are connected, as we suspect," she said, cutting off what looked to her like the start of an argument, "then they may be sharing a dream as we speak. If this is the case, Harry may be the only one who can tell us where Mr. Malfoy is." She poured the potion down Harry's throat, then laid him back down. 

"What do we do now?" Ron asked. He'd been silent throughout the whole telling of the reflected spell story, wracked with guilt, thinking he may have been part of what put Harry in this state. Madame Pomfrey gave him an even look. 

"We wait." 

* * * * * * 

There was nothing. 

No light, no air, no floor or ceiling, no sense of up and down - nothing except an unending rolling blackness. Harry struggled to orient himself against the darkness, trying to make sense of what he wasn't seeing. Moments before, he'd been in the Great Hall, preparing to go back to his dorm. Then... 

Harry shuddered, remembering the ungodly pain that had wracked through his body. It felt ten times worse than the cruciatus curse, shooting through every nerve in his body. He remembered hearing screaming, then barely understanding that it was coming from him, and then... blackness. Nothingness. Where he was now. 

Harry bit his lip and wondered if he was dead. 

A sound finally reached his ears, very soft, but sounding amazingly loud in the nothingness. Harry turned, trying to locate the sound, the only thing he had to latch onto. It sounded like a whimpering or a soft crying, and it echoed around him, filling him with despair. 

Draco. 

Harry saw the smaller boy, floating in the blackness, not far from him, completely naked, his legs pulled up again his chest, head buried in his knees. His pale body seemed to glow in the dimness, his long silvery hair hanging limply around him. Without seeming to move, Harry instantly found himself next to the Slytherin, afraid to touch him. 

"Draco?" he whispered. The boy whimpered again, pulling himself tighter into a ball. "Draco?" he said again, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Draco's back. Draco cried out, his whole body shaking. 

"Stop it," he hissed, his voice gravelly and rough. "Stop it." 

"Draco, it's me!" Harry said, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Calm down." 

Draco shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. "It's hurts," he whispered. "This is when I wake up. I can't wake up! Why can't I wake up?" 

Harry shook his head, even though Draco couldn't see him. "I don't know," he replied. "I don't know what's going on." Draco finally looked up, his silvery eyes red-rimmed. He shuddered, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"I can't wake up," he whispered. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shivering frame and the Slytherin buried his face in Harry's shirt, his body wracked with sobs. Harry cradled him, resting his chin on top of Draco's head, brushing his hand along Draco's hair. 

"I'm here," Harry said softly, trying to calm him. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." 

Without warning, Harry felt himself tugged away from Draco, who screamed at the loss, a scream that echoed Harry's own. The blackness melted away, bright light slamming into Harry's eyes, filling his head with pain. A horribly bitter taste filled his mouth and Harry gasped at the cold air filling his lungs. He breathed fitfully, hands grabbing at the sheets of the bed he was on, looking in shock at the faces suddenly hovering over him. 

"Harry!" cried Ron, his voice horribly loud to his ears, Harry shrinking back from them in panic and confusion. 

"Back away, back away!" cried another voice, pushing the faces away from him. Madame Pomfrey came into view. "Give him some room," she said softly. Noticing how rapidly Harry was blinking away at the light, muttered a quick spell to dim the brightness in the room. 

"What did you do?" Harry panted, his voice rough and angry. "Why did you take me away? Where's Draco? Where is he?" 

"Calm down, Harry," Madame Pomfrey said soothingly. "You've been unconscious for over an hour." 

"Where... is... Draco?" Harry ground out between clenched teeth. 

"We were rather hoping you could tell us." Professor Dumbledore hovered into view, old eyes looking down at Harry in concern. "Mr. Malfoy is gone, Harry. It looks as though he may have been attacked. He's not on the grounds and we can't find him." 

Harry looked around at those gathered. Professor Snape was standing in the back, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Ron stood a little ways away, Snuffles at his side. Harry closed his eyes, trying to reach out to Draco's mind like he'd been able to do before, but felt nothing. He shivered. 

"I saw him," Harry finally answered, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. "He's in so much pain. Everything was distorted... strange. I-I don't know where he is. I don't think he knows, either. He's scared and somebody is hurting him. That's all I know for certain." 

Severus suddenly stepped forward. "I'm going to go contact Lucius and Narcissa," he stated. Dumbledore whirled on him. 

"I don't think that's a good idea, Severus," he said sternly. "We need to find something concrete to tell them before they come down here." Severus shook his head firmly. 

"I'm telling them right now," he said, then turned around and swept out of the room. Dumbledore sighed at his exit. 

"Now we'll have even more problems," he said under his breath, then looked back at Harry. "You try to relax, Harry. There's nothing you can do about this right now." 

Harry shook his head weakly. "I can help," he insisted. "I can help find him. Just let me go back to sleep and talk to him..." 

"That could be dangerous," Dumbledore said firmly. "Because your minds are connected, if Mr. Malfoy were to... pass on while you were with him, it could have disastrous effects on you." He looked over at Madame Pomfrey. "I want you to keep him awake, please." 

"No!" Harry cried, but Madame Pomfrey nodded her head. 

"I will," she promised. 

"No!" Harry shouted again, trying to get out of bed. Madame Pomfrey reached over to hold him down. "You can't do this! I have to help him! I have to find him!" 

Dumbledore turned to the others in the room. "Mr. Weasly," he said, taking in the dismayed expression on the redhead's face, "I think it would be best if you returned to the Great Hall with your peers. I need to go make the announcement that everyone will need to stay there tonight, as we did a few years ago." He looked down at Snuffles. "If you wouldn't mind coming with me?" he asked the dog, who whined in Harry's direction, then nodded his head. "Good," Dumbledore finished. "After the announcement is made, we'll meet up with the others outside to take gauge of the Mr. Malfoy situation." 

"Please," Harry begged, now being held down by invisible, magic restraints conjured up by the nurse. "Please, let me help find him! He's my friend and he needs me!" Dumbledore just gave Harry's cheek a little pat, then turned and led the others out of the room, Ron shooting one parting glance at Harry over his shoulder before he disappeared from view. Harry let his head collapse back on the pillow and whimpered. 

* * * * * * 

Severus had read once, somewhere, that the most dangerous animal in the world was an angry mother protecting her offspring. He hadn't been sure what to make of it at the time, thinking nothing could be as dangerous as some of the magical creatures he'd come across during his studies, but now, he was a firm believer. His belief was helped along by the fact that he was currently shoved up hard against a wall, the petite hands of Narcissa Malfoy lifting him easily off the ground as she clutched at the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger. 

"Where... is... my... SON?" she growled, banging him back against the wall. "Where is he?" 

"'Cissa, I don't know," Severus choked out, glancing over at Lucius. The tall man wasn't paying attention to his plight, instead leafing through several books, looking for spell, any spell, that could help them. With a shake of his head, he dropped the book, then carefully extracted Severus from his wife's grip. 

"Severus would never purposely allow our son to be injured," he told her gently, though also looking quite pale and strung-out. "Killing him won't help the situation." 

Severus coughed a few times and nodded his head, thankful to have his airway back. When he had first returned to his private chambers, intent on contacting the Malfoys, he'd been rather surprised to find them already there, having taken advantage of a private Floo network Severus had installed the year Draco began attending school. They'd already known something had happened to their son, which shouldn't have been a surprise to Severus. There were enough charms on the boy for them to keep tabs on him at all times. It was a consequence of constantly living in fear that one day, something horrible might happen to their son. It seemed as though that day had come. 

"When I find out who's hurt my son, I'm going to KILL them," Narcissa ground out, rapidly pacing the length of the room, tugging at her hair. She shook her head. "No, I'm not going to kill them," she amended darkly, "I'm going to TOURTURE them, for as long and as painfully as I can, and THEN I'm going to kill them!" 

"Get in line," Severus said, his voice still rough. 

Lucius shook his head angrily. "We need to focus," he said adamantly. "We need to figure this out. After we got the signal that Draco was in mortal danger, we couldn't track him anymore. Whoever took him must have known about the charms we have on him." 

"It's a common practice," Severus said. "Especially in high risk situations like Draco's." 

"But the charms are strong," Narcissa interjected. "Only a powerful wizard with great knowledge of those sort of protections would be able to block them." 

"That doesn't leave very many suspects," Lucius finished. "The only people with knowledge of those sort of protection spells are the Divinators who cast them, but we did the protection spells ourselves, so that's out. Other than that, I'd say some of the other Death Eaters, and..." 

"Aurors," Severus finished. "Moody." 

"Alastor Moody was here?" Narcissa asked wildly. 

"He was," Severus said, "but he was supposed to have left." 

"No doubt with my son tucked under his arm," Lucius growled. 

"We never should have let Draco come here," Narcissa said fiercely. "We should have tutored him at home, where he'd be safe." 

"We couldn't have sheltered him forever," Lucius told his distraught wife, giving her a brief hug. "We did the best we can. Now, we just have to keep doing that." 

"The Headmaster should be informed," Severus said, not really wanting to break the tender moment, but knowing time was of the essence. "If Moody really is suspect, he might know where he is." 

"And he might have been in on it!" Lucius snapped. "I'm afraid I have no reason to hold that crazy old man in the same respect you do, Severus. No, we'll do this on our own. All we need is some kind of lead." 

Severus frowned. "I think I know where to start," he said darkly. 

* * * * * * 

The Hogwarts' grounds were lit up like day, the majority of the teaching staff hovering around the greenhouse, looking at the carnage with everything ranging from disgust to fear. In the full light, it looked even worse than Remus had described. The amount of blood on the ground and stuck on the glass was staggering, the air filled with what smelled like burnt rice, the blackened grass still smoking lightly. Professor Sprout crouched down over the only glass outside of the greenhouse, what looked like the remains of a glass jar, laurel petals, once bright white, now stained with blood. She had tears running down her face. 

"If he hadn't come out here, this wouldn't have happened," she said brokenly. Professor Flitwick patted her shoulder with shaking hands. Hagrid came trotting back up to the group, his face not indicating any good news. 

"The centaur's didn't see nothin'," he said gruffly. "Whatever happened, it was quick. None of the charms surrounding the school hav' been broken, so nobody was here what shoudn'ta been." 

"So we've reached a dead end," Professor McGonagall said with a frown. She looked over at the Headmaster. "Should we contact the Ministry?" 

"They won't know what to do," Dumbledore replied, "and worse, they'll probably leak it to the press. I can't imagine that helping Mr. Malfoy's situation at all." He sighed. "Everyone, spread out again," he called to the group. "Let's give it one more look and see if anything comes up." The teachers nodded and walked off into the darkness. Remus and Snuffles stayed behind. 

"Headmaster," Remus said quietly, "maybe we should allow Harry to help. It might be Draco's only chance." Dumbledore shook his head. 

"No," he said firmly. "Harry's much more important than that boy." He walked off quickly, heading into the darkness. Remus stared dumbfounded after him. 

"What?" he asked the air, then looked back down at Snuffles, whose face echoed his own confusion even with a dog's expression. 

* * * * * * 

Harry struggled against the magical restraints, trying to get away. He looked wildly over at Madame Pomfrey, who was sitting at her desk across the room, looking at Harry with concern. Harry struggled again, gnawing nervously on his bottom lip. 

"Let me up!" he shouted at her. "Let me help him! Let me GO!" 

"Harry, please calm down," she begged the boy. "The Headmaster knows what's best, you know that. We don't want you getting hurt, too." 

"I don't care!" Harry cried. "I can't feel him anymore, don't you understand that? I need to find him! He's part of me now! I can't let him be in pain!" 

"Harry..." she said worriedly, rising from her chair to walk over to him. Suddenly, the door the infirmary burst open, Severus Snape striding into the room, closely followed by Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The nurse gaped at the sudden appearance of Draco's parents. 

"How did you two get here?" she asked, once she'd found her voice. The three of them ignored her, walking over to Harry's bedside. The boy had fallen very still at their entrance, staring closely at the worry-filled faces of Draco's parents. 

"Harry," began Narcissa quietly, putting a soft hand on his head, "do you think you can find our son?" 

Harry nodded, unable to speak at the anguished tenderness of the woman's voice, so much like he often imagined his own mother might speak to him. Her eyes were kind, though frightened. Harry couldn't imagine the pain of losing a son and never wanted to know what that felt like. He hadn't been able to help Cedric, but maybe he could help Draco. 

"Absolutely not!" All of them looked up as Madame Pomfrey strode over, Narcissa removing her hand from Harry as she stood up straight. "The Headmaster insisted that Harry be kept awake and out of this!" continued the nurse. "I won't have you three putting him in harm's way!" 

"My SON is in harm's way as we speak!" Lucius shouted, walking up the nurse. She wasn't fazed in the least. 

"I'm aware of that," the nurse said calmly, "and we're doing everything we can to find him. But I refuse to allow you to put a one student in danger for the sake of another!" 

"If he wants to help, then let him!" Severus replied, taking a step forward. 

"He doesn't know what he wants!" countered the nurse. "He doesn't have the slightest understanding of--" 

"_SOPORUS_!" Madame Pomfrey's eyes rolled back in her head and she hit the floor before she could finish her sentence. Both Lucius and Severus turned to see Narcissa standing firm, her wand still pointed where the nurse had once stood. 

"We don't have time for this nonsense," she said shortly, turning around and waving her wand over Harry to release his magical restraints. The boy sat up and rubbed his wrists, looking at the fallen nurse, then back at Draco's mother, very impressed. "Lucius, lock and guard the door," continued Narcissa, barking out orders to the men in the room. "Severus, come over here with that sleeping draught for Harry." She looked back at Harry and gave him a small, if sad, smile. "Are you sure you're up to this?" she asked him. 

Harry nodded again. "I want to help find him," he told her earnestly. "I know I can do it. We haven't really gotten along all that well in the past, but I feel like I've really come to understand him these past few days." Narcissa smiled again and Harry could see tears at the corners of her eyes. He reached out and put a hand on her arm. "He'll be alright," he promised her. "He's strong and resourceful. You two raised him well." Narcissa gave a small nod, then reached down and gathered Harry in a tight hug, placing a small kiss on the top of his head. 

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered. Harry didn't want her to let go - she smelled nice and was warm. It was like the hugs he got from Mrs. Weasley. He wondered if it was something special about mothers. He suddenly missed his own. Narcissa finally let go and Severus handed him a vial filled with a light blue liquid. 

"You'll fall asleep almost instantly," he warned him, "but you'll be able to wake up any time you want. It's designed to put you to sleep, but not to keep you asleep. That should give you a safeguard. Try to convince Draco to look around and find out where he is - any detail will help." 

Harry nodded and looked down at the potion, taking a deep breath before putting the glass to his lips and drinking it down. The vial was plucked from his hand just as his head started to hit the pillow, and the last thought Harry had was that it tasted a bit like raspberries. 

The world went dark. 

A/N: Well, we're getting closer to the end. Have I ever mentioned how much I love Narcissa Malfoy? She's always been a really strong character in my mind. She is a witch, after all. I like to imagine she wears the pants in the family. So to speak.  
And hey! Naked Draco! It's about time! Too bad sex is the farthest thing from their minds at the moment. Such as life. ^_~  
Coming up: Harry and Draco talk a bit and we finally find out if Moody really /was/ the one to take Draco. Narcissa gets to act even more badass and is Dumbledore acting strange, or is it just me? And, I promise, I will reveal who or what SESHA is very soon! All this and more in the next chapter of "Breaking Destiny!" Thanks for reading! Drop me a note if you have the time! 

Also, I've created an update list for my fiction. Go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dangerfics/join to join!


	12. Chapter Eleven

A/N: Hey guys! Been a little while, huh? Well, I blame society. Anyway, quick shout-out to all the wonderful people out there who reviewed the last chapter: Sky Chief, Myr, WildfireFriendship, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, MiniMe, JadeDragon, deos, jazz, Kyria, AshFarley, Q, MoonFire, mistykasumi, sabellestarte, thebrunetteditz, AmZ, DragonMage, nightwing, Fate's Child, LB, and SchizoAuthoress. *whew* That's a lot of you! If you didn't get an e-mail from me thanking you for your review (and I _had_ your e-mail), I apologize! There was some major screw ups with my e-mail account. So, just in case, THANK YOU! 93 reviews! That's astounding! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter XI

Harry blinked several times, once again thrust into the darkness that made up the combined psyche of Draco and himself. It was much the same as before, except now, the blackness seemed to have texture like fine silk, pitching and rolling around him, turning his stomach. His body frantically sought balance in this featureless world with no direction. It was horribly disorienting and panic swam around in Harry's chest. 

He forced it away. He had a reason for being here - he had to find Draco! Harry directed his mind around, searching for the Slytherin, but this time, unlike last time, he had no sound to guide him. The space surrounding him pulsed in unsteady deep beats, speeding up until one beat was no longer discernable from the next, then slowing down to the point where Harry had to wonder if the next would occur. He twisted in the darkness, the pulsing ringing in his ear, veering around to find something - anything - to guide him to what he sought. 

At last, he found Draco huddled some distance away, head bowed, his long, pale hair forming a curtain around his bare body, looking much worse than when Harry had seen him last. 

He was at his side in an instant. 

"You left me." Draco tilted his head up, his normally silver eyes now gray and lifeless, staring at him impassively, cold and empty. Harry shook his head. 

"I didn't," he said, once again sinking down by the smaller boy's side, wrapping Draco in his embrace. The boy stiffened briefly, then relaxed, leaning against Harry's chest. "I was pulled away." Draco shivered. 

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice an abused whisper. Harry rested a hand on his cheek, encouraging him to continue. Draco talking was better than Draco not talking. At least it gave them someplace to start. "I've never been scared before. I thought I would be ready for it." 

"Ready for what?" Harry asked, perplexed, his fingers combing through Draco's hair. 

"My death." Harry stilled his movement, looking down at Draco with wide-eyed concern. 

"You're not going to die," he insisted. Draco gave him a small, sad smile. 

"We're all going to die, Harry," he said. "Honestly, I never expected to last this long. I thought, certainly, somebody would have gotten me before now. People like us - we don't live to be very old." 

"What do you mean, 'people like us?'" Harry asked, trying to keep his distress at Draco's resignation out of his voice. Draco shrugged. 

"A dark mark doesn't have to be real," he said softly, "for you to feel it burn. People in the middle always get run over. It's a war on two fronts, with no hope of victory in sight." Draco sighed. "My mother cried the day I was born." 

"You are not going to die!" Harry said again, clutching Draco to him as tightly as he could, the defeat surrounding the Slytherin almost overwhelming. "At least, not until I've kicked your ass for worrying me like this, so we can get old and gray and be surrounded by cats and a well-worn wizard's chess set while we argue about the weather and politics." Harry knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help it. It had the desired effect though. Draco looked up at Harry and smiled. 

"You've really thought this through," he said with a blink, grinning a little more in spite of himself. Harry nodded. 

"I have," he agreed. "And we can sit on our porch and throw curses at the kids who dare each other to run up and touch our door and also at the Prophet reporters who will no doubt still be camped out on our lawn, hoping for an exclusive." 

Draco laughed, then hissed, his body suddenly jerking with a pain Harry couldn't see. His fingers clawed into Harry's shoulder, his eyes screwed shut as he gnashed his teeth. "Oh, Merlin," he whispered. "Why won't it just end?" 

"It will," Harry promised. "We just have to find you and bring you home." 

Draco whimpered and shook his head. "I just wanted to help," he said, voice rough with agony. "It was all for Sesha... all of it." 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "Who's Sesha?" he asked, determined to keep Draco talking, fearful he would fall into himself if he didn't. The Slytherin shook his head. 

"Not a 'who,'" he explained slowly, eyes still closed, the pain making it difficult for him to focus. "A 'what.' Students Exiled to Safe Harbors. It was my mother's idea. She and Father, they wanted to help the Slytherins, those who were like us, in the middle, to help them escape." 

"But why?" Harry asked. "Hogwarts is safe... isn't it?" 

"It's not safe, Harry," Draco said forcefully, looking up at him, eyes blazing with new life. "Aside from Severus, not a single person in the whole school gives a damn about us! We could all be dead and dust tomorrow and no one would shed a tear - hell, they'd probably be thrilled with all the extra space our dormitory could afford them." 

"That's not true!" Harry insisted, shaking his head. "When I was awake, I saw how upset everyone was at your disappearance! They were terrified, Draco! Terrified that you'd been killed or worse!" 

"Terrified that they could be next, more likely," he said bitterly. Harry held him close again. 

"You're underestimating them, Draco." The smaller boy shook his head. 

"They why did they make you leave?" he asked. 

Harry sighed. "They didn't understand," he explained. "They didn't know what had happened to me - only that I was unconscious. They used a potion to wake me up and it was only then that they realized that you were gone, but not because they didn't care! As soon as they found out..." Harry trailed off and Draco snapped his head up, red-rimmed eyes narrowing. 

"What?" he asked. Harry chewed his lip and debated lying, but Draco seemed to sense this and grabbed his arm. "What is it?" he asked again. "Truthfully." 

"They..." Harry began slowly, then tried the swallow the lump in his throat. "Dumbledore... he didn't want me to go back to sleep to find you." Draco gave a short bitter laugh, but Harry only tightened his embrace. "Not because he doesn't care," he tried to tell him, "but because he wasn't sure if it was safe or not." 

"This coming from the man who gives you an invisibility cloak and free range of the castle at night?" Draco asked, slightly incredulous. "The same man who lets you compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, even though there was no way you could be prepared? The same man who supposedly didn't even _know_ servants of Voldemort were hanging around right under his nose, posing as teaching staff? Do you ever think he's been overly concerned with your safety, Harry?" 

"That's not..." Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. "That's not right... that's not possible... he cares.... he...." 

"Open up those myopic green eyes of yours and look around, Harry!" Draco cried. "There's something happening here, something terribly wrong. Hogwarts isn't safe - it hasn't been since we crossed the lake in first year! How many times have you had to fight for your life? How many times have you nearly died?" 

"That can't be..." Harry was at a loss. Draco couldn't be right about this. He just couldn't be! 

"It is, Harry," Draco insisted. "It is! It..." Draco gasped, his whole body wracked with spasms, and he cried out, a horse yell, muted as he buried his face in Harry's chest. Alarmed, Harry held him close until the pain passed and Draco lay limply in his arms, a few rogue tears crawling down his cheeks. "Why?" Draco finally asked. "Why are they doing this? Why won't they just kill me?" 

Harry steeled himself to get back to the task at hand - saving Draco. Everything else could wait. "People care about you Draco. I care, Professor Snape cares, and your parents... they're here. They sent me to find you." 

Draco looked up, exhausted silver eyes meeting worried green ones. "They're here? he asked, a spark of hope lighting Draco's eyes. "They're at Hogwarts?" 

"Yes," Harry told him gently. Draco frowned slightly. 

"Has my mother killed anybody yet?" Harry laughed. 

"No, not yet," he said, smiling, "though Madame Pomfrey looked a little worse for wear when I went back to sleep." Harry's expression grew more serious. "They love you Draco - your parents and Professor Snape. They've taken a great risk to help me find you. You've got to go back and open your eyes. You have to tell me where you are. Who attacked you? Can you see?" 

"I don't want to see," Draco told him. "I don't know who attacked me. It happened too fast and it was too dark. I can't go back.." 

"You have to," Harry said firmly. Draco let out a low moan and shook his head, scrunching his eyes shut. "You have to," Harry repeated, "so we can find you and make the pain stop." 

"It's worse there," Draco said wearily. "That's why I'm here." 

"I know, but..." Harry sighed. "Draco, please..." 

They were silent for a moment, the pulsing of the darkness beating around them. Harry realized with sudden clarity that it was Draco's heartbeat, which Harry could feel pounding through his chest, pressed so close to him, that led the beats, feeling and hearing the darkness speed its dizzying oscillation. Finally, Draco sat up and let out a deep breath, nodding more to himself than to Harry. "Okay," he said in a small voice. "Just be here when I get back." 

"I will," Harry promised. Draco faded from view. 

* * * * * * 

Severus paced the length of the hospital wing, his steps fast and jerky. Every now and then, he would glare down at Harry's prone form, then shake his head, mutter, and resume pacing. Narcissa watching him with concern from where she sat next to Harry's bedside, holding the Gryffindor's hand in her own. Lucius remained by the door to the wing, wand in hand, listening for any sound of movement in the hallway. Madame Pomfrey remained motionless on the floor where she'd fallen. 

"What's taking him so long?" Severus finally growled, glaring down at Harry. 

"I'm sure he's doing the best he can," Narcissa told him gently. "Gryffindors are like that. Although..." She paused, frowning. "This connection he's formed with my son... do you think it's safe?" 

Severus sniffed, then narrowed his eyes. "I don't know," he said darkly. "Draco's ability to combat his nightmares was improving - I can only assume it was because of the strengthening of his connection with Potter over there. Gryffindors are, by nature, riddled with good intentions. I don't believe he'll cause Draco any harm. If we didn't have the advantage of this connection..." 

"We might never be able to find him," Narcissa finished, her hand tightening around Harry's. "I swear to you, Severus, when I find who is responsible for harming my son..." She let the sentence hang, her eyes flashing with promised revenge. 

Severus nodded, then looked down as Madame Pomfrey groaned on the floor. He tapped her with his foot, then watched her reaction, satisfied that she wasn't waking up. "I feel responsible," he admitted guiltily, sinking down in a chair beside Narcissa. "If I hadn't let him help, if I hadn't let him stay behind..." 

"Draco's stubborn," Lucius said from where he was standing across the room. "It's not your fault, Severus. If anything, the blame falls on us. We should have sent him to Durmstrang instead." 

"But if I hadn't sent him out to the greenhouse tonight..." 

"Enough," Narcissa said quietly, though forcefully. Both men turned to look at her. She was staring down at Harry, her face pale, but her eyes determined. "No one is to blame except for the one who kidnapped our son. No matter who it is, no matter what it takes, that person will pay." 

The room fell silent, then Lucius sighed and nodded, turning back to listen at the door. "They will," he promised. "I just wish we knew where Draco was." 

* * * * * * 

The air was cold and damp, rushing into Draco's lungs with every shaky breath. His chest spasmed in agony, the mere movement of his chest as he gasped sending flashes of pain jolting through his body. He didn't dare open his eyes, afraid that he might not be alone, not wanting his captors to know he was awake. He instinctively knew, if he gained consciousness again, that they would do everything in their power to rectify the situation. 

The hard ground pressing into his body told him he was lying on stone - damp, cold stone at that. The sound of rhythmic, steady dripping reached his ears, each drop pounding in his head as though someone was striking him with a hammer. A brief shot of panic ran through his system as he imagined this just might be the case. Listening more closely, however, he knew he was alone. 

Draco cautiously opened one eye, then instantly regretted it. He was underground, in what appeared to be a basement of some kind. A small streak of light was shining right on his face, coming from a narrow, square window near the ceiling. The shards of light went straight from his eye to his brain and he winced, trying not to cry out. Gasping, he pushed himself up on his arms and off of his stomach, kneeling on the cold stone floor, squinting in the dim light. Then he looked down. 

"Oh, damn," he muttered before he could stop himself. He was completely naked from the waist up, his once stylish slacks the only thing left covering him, full of holes and tears. He vaguely remembered falling into the greenhouse and, after touching a deep cut on his arm and feeling glass crunching under the skin, he confirmed that fact. His body was littered with bruises and cuts and, raising a hand to his throbbing head, a rather large gash along his forehead. He looked down at the blood covering his hand and tried to stop his stomach from turning. His arms and legs kept jerking sporadically, the after-effects of the Crutacious curse, he remembered, and Draco didn't know if he could stand up. His knee and ribs still ached from the beating he'd taken from Bane and his crew. 

He let himself fall forward again, his palms spreading out on the damp stone, trying to clear his head. He needed to do what Harry asked, look around and figure out where he was being kept. He needed to help the others help him. He needed to clear his head and think. He needed to... 

_"Draco, darling... what should you do if someone tries to take you away from us?"_

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, hearing his mother's voice in his head as clearly as if she was standing next to him, whispering in his ear. It was a conversation they had often in his youth, a warning and a course of action drilled into his head as soon as he could comprehend her words. His mind flew back to that time, not so long ago, relaxing in his mother's sitting room, the warm summer sun pouring in from the large bay windows overlooking his father's garden. He could almost imagine the smell of her perfume drifting around him as she held him close on her lap, a delicate hand stroking through his hair. 

_"I scream, really loudly," he replied, resting his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat._

_"Very good, my dragon," she said softly, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "And if someone takes you, what do you do?"_

_The idea frightened Draco. He knew if he was taken away, it would be scary. He loved his mom, his dad, and Uncle Sevvy. He didn't want anyone to take him away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If you don't come right away, I look around," he whispered._

_"And what do you look for?"_

_Draco bit his lip, trying to remember the word. "I look for a... a... ward?"_

_"That's right, my dear," she said, giving him a brief squeeze. "And do you remember what the wards looked like from the pictures Daddy and I showed you?" Draco nodded. "Good. Now, what do you do when you find the ward?"_

_Draco grinned up at his mother. He knew this part. "I smash it!" he said proudly. His mother smiled and place another kiss on the top of his head._

_"That's perfect, my beautiful boy," she said, ruffling his hair. "You're very, very smart." Draco closed his eyes and nuzzled against his mother, smiling as she started singing him a soft song in a language he didn't understand, but still filled his heart with warmth._

Draco opened his eyes again and forced himself to sit up. His legs shaking dangerously below him, he forced himself to his feet, only falling down twice before managing to stay standing. He stumbled over to the wall, preparing to lean against it, then stopped, afraid that the perimeter might be booby-trapped with curses to prevent his escape. He wished he had his wand and was really starting to wonder what happened to it. 

Come to think of it, what happened to the rest of his clothes? Draco scowled. They could kidnap him, beat him, curse him, and do other unspeakable things to him, but when somebody messed with his clothes, it was personal. 

Draco reviewed the last thought that ran through his head and mentally slapped himself. Not only was that ridiculously poufy, but it was incredibly inconsequential. He was starting to think whoever had attacked him must have hit his head a couple of times. Great, just great. 

Forcing down another wave a nausea, Draco immediately started doing what his mother had taught him to do - look for the ward. There must be one nearby, to so completely prevent the charms cast on him from giving out the necessary signal to alert his parents to his location. A rickety staircase led up to a thick, wooden door, leading up and out into what Draco guessed was a house of some kind. He left the stairs alone, uncertain if he could climb them and severely doubting the door would be kindly left unlocked just for him. There were no wards in sight and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was behind the door, completely out of reach. Instead, he swayed his way across the room, looking up at the narrow window. It was too small for him to fit through, but the angle of the sun streaming through it told him it was either late morning or early evening. Of course, unknowing how long he'd been unconscious and also not even certain what country he was in made it difficult to make any guess just based on that alone. 

He had to see what was out that window. 

He scanned the room again, then blinked, and smiled. Propped up against the wall was an old, industrial, metal bookcase, leaning a bit precariously to the side, but looking sturdy enough to hold his slight form. He walked over to the bookcase, lifting it slightly, testing its weight. 

It was light enough to move, but doing so would make far too much noise. He backed away, sitting on the floor, frowning at it. If he only had his wand, he could cast a simple levitation charm, silently move it to where he needed it, and climb it like a ladder. He glared at the bookcase, just wanting it to move more than anything else in the world right now. 

The bookcase jumped two feet off the ground and Draco felt his jaw slack open. 

Then, he grinned. 

* * * * * * 

Ron watched Hermione pacing back and forth, a concerned expression on his face. The Great Hall was now devoid of tables, the ground littered with squashy purple sleeping bags as it had been during second year. Everyone was sitting together in small groups, whispering amongst themselves, eyeing the reduced number of Slytherins with suspicion. Hermione refused to sit still, her hand going up to tug at her hair every now and then. 

"Harry will be alright," he told her. She turned to him, eyes glittering with unshed tears. 

"I should have told when I knew," she said brokenly, sitting down across from Ron. He raised an eyebrow. 

"Told them what?" he asked. 

"About Harry and Malfoy - the bond between them... I knew, Ron!" she cried. Ron's eyes went wide in surprise, then he glared at her. 

"You knew and you didn't tell me?" he said loudly. Hermione made a hushing motion with her hand, trying to keep him quiet. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed 

"I only confirmed it yesterday," she insisted. "I would have told you, I promise." 

Ron scowled. "Yeah, right." 

"Don't do this now," Hermione snapped. "Harry's hurt and a student has been attacked." 

"It was just Malfoy," Ron grumbled. 

"I could have been anyone," Hermione returned. Ron bit his lip but didn't reply. 

* * * * * * 

"Everyone, listen up!" Dumbledore was facing the gathered teachers, who had finished their surveys of the grounds and had come up empty handed. "There's nothing left for us to do out here," he continued. "Everyone, return to the Great Hall and help the teachers left behind to calm the students." 

"What are we going to tell them?" Professor Sprout asked, wringing her hands. Her face was torn with grief, guilt, and worry. 

"Nothing, right now," the Headmaster replied. "There's no sense in worrying them, although since we don't want anyone to know, I'm sure they're already aware of what's transpired. If they ask, tell them we have the situation under control and we're doing everything in our power to resolve it." The teachers murmured in agreement and started the slow trek back to the castle, talking softly amongst themselves. 

"Sir..." Remus began slowly, his hand resting on Snuffles' head. Dumbledore turned to look back at the werewolf, the old man's expression unreadable in the dim light. "Sir," Remus said again, "the situation really isn't under control. Perhaps it would be best to get the Ministry involved. For all their incompetence, they do have resources we lack. It might help us find Mr. Malfoy." 

"I already explained to you why I don't want the Ministry to get involved, Mr. Lupin," Dumbledore said shortly. 

"I know," Remus replied patiently, "and as you know, I'm not a huge fan of them myself. Their anti-werewolf policies are the greatest source of my problems. But the child's life is at stake, if he isn't already dead. This goes beyond our personal views." 

Dumbledore sighed. "Sometimes, Mr. Lupin, you have to know when it's best to push and when it's best to let things go. All things considered, we have more to worry about than Mr. Malfoy's health." 

Remus gaped at the older man, unable to speak for several moments. "W-What?" he finally managed. "What are you talking about?" 

"Students like Mr. Malfoy are a liability to this school and to all the other children under our care," Dumbledore said, his voice devoid of emotion. "And while I'd like to think we can save all of them, I've been around long enough to know a lost cause when I see one. If he hadn't been attacked here and now, then it would have happened the next year, or over the summer. We know of the elder Mr. Malfoy's involvement with Voldemort. We're probably better off now that the younger is gone." 

"Sir, I respectfully disagree!" Remus cried. "I taught Draco two years ago. That boy has amazing potential! When I exposed the students to the Boggart, he didn't see a monster or a demon. He saw Death, Headmaster, and not his own! He saw his friends' deaths and his family's. That alone tells me he possesses the motivation to fight for our side, to help us in our battle. He doesn't want to see anyone die any more than the rest of us!" 

"And what happens when our battle leads us to his father, Mr. Lupin?" Dumbledore asked. "What happens when we are forced to kill the man he most respects?" The Headmaster shook his head. "Young men have become dark wizards for less." 

"Sir..." Remus began again, but Dumbledore held up his hand, stilling him. 

"If Mr. Malfoy can be found alive," he said, "then we will accept him back here with open arms and continue to work with him, to help drive him away from the path he is so destined to take, then hope for the best. If, however, he is dead..." Dumbledore paused, then sighed. "Then perhaps that is the best for all." The Headmaster inclined his head towards the castle. "Return with the rest now, Mr. Lupin, Snuffles," he addressed them both. "Check on Harry, if you please. I will be joining you shortly." 

Dumbledore turned around and walked into the darkness towards the Forbidden Forest. Remus watched him go in shock. Next to him, the werewolf felt a rustling, then a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders. Remus looked over a Sirius. 

"What's going on?" he asked. "I don't understand any of this." 

"Nor do I," Sirius murmured. "Perhaps he knows something we don't -has a plan he hasn't revealed to us. He's done it before." 

"Sometimes, he makes my spine crawl," Remus replied, his golden eyes narrowing after the Headmaster's vanished form. "I don't think the wolf trusts him." 

Sirius frowned and ran a soothing hand up and down his mate's back. "We have to trust him," he said softly. "We don't have a choice." 

Remus turned to look at Sirius. "Draco is an amazing child. He has so much promise." 

"I thought he was always giving you a hard time when you taught here," Sirius reminded him, a little confused. Remus laughed. 

"Did he ever!" he said with a grin. "Always making derogatory comments behind my back, complaining in class, showing up late... But he was a quick learner and sharp as a claw. He always brought up thoughtful questions and seemed to be two steps ahead of me at all times. That, and I think he knew I was a werewolf from the day I arrived." Remus frowned. "He never told anyone and I had a feeling his rough edges were just an act. It's not surprising - given the House he lived in, he did need to protect himself." 

"It's a shame we didn't do a better job of protecting him ourselves," Sirius added darkly. Remus nodded sadly and Sirius sighed. "We should go check on Harry." 

"Yes, we should," Remus agreed. Sirius gave him a brief hug, then stepped back, his form wavering for a few seconds before the black, shaggy dog appeared in his place. Together, the two of them walked briskly back to the castle. 

* * * * * * 

The bookcase looked almost obscene, bouncing its way across the room through midair. Draco squinted his swollen eyes in concentration, trying to keep the up and down motion to a minimum - not only out of fear it might touch the ground and alert his wakefulness to his captors and not only because the oscillation was making his very delicate stomach unhappy, but mostly because it looked sloppy. 

Malfoys were never sloppy. 

Current state of dress excepted due to dire circumstances, Draco amended in his mind. 

Still, wobbliness aside, Draco was pleased, not to mention astonished, with his progress thus far. He'd known almost immediately that charms was going to be his worst subject when it took him almost the entire first class just to get his feather to twitch a little. Professor Flitwick said, that while his intonation of _Wingardium Leviosa_ was superb, his focus was extremely lacking. Curious still, his ability to cast curses was well above board, while the simplest charms eluded him. It all had to do with mindset, Flitwick had insisted, but Draco still struggled, try as he might. Now, however, the bookcase responded to will with great precision, wandless no less! 

"Thank you, Gryffindorks," Draco said softly, his voice horse and scratchy. After much careful maneuvering, the bookcase hovered just below the window. With great care, he set it down, the touch on the floor barely making a sound. 

The strain of his actions hit him full force as soon as the spell ended. Draco bit back a groan as his head pounded in agony. His body felt on fire, every injury magnified what seemed like a hundred fold or more. His knee, injured in the fight... the day before? He'd lost track of time... throbbed with every heartbeat, possibly broken, his ribs protesting with every breath. The cuts and bruises on his arms and legs burned as though he was rolling on lit coals and his limbs resumed their frantic twitching, neurons firing randomly, offended at the abuse they'd suffered while under the Crutacious curse. 

He was tempted to let the unconsciousness his brain so wanted over-take him, but looking at the window and the bookcase, moved through the strength of his own mind and determination, he knew he had to go on. He might not be able to reach the wards hiding him from his parents' view, but he could at least give them the information they needed to pinpoint his location. 

Besides, the more he thought about it, he realized dying now would just tick him off. Draco wasn't a big fan of making anybody happy and he certainly had no desire to give his captors the satisfaction of sending his soul to hell. 

He'd go when he was damn good and ready, thank you very much. 

Shaking with new resolve, Draco struggled to his feet, refusing his body the option of falling again. The walk of ten feet across the room to his makeshift ladder was pure pain with every step, but he persisted. Finally, he reached the bookcase, praying to whichever gods that listened to bad-tempered Slytherins that it would hold his weight as he clutched his aching fists around the side supports. 

He climbed his way up, each step making the old shelving unit groan in protest. He turned his eyes toward the stairs, but the door remained closed. Continuing his upward climb, Draco rested both hands on the edge of the window, peering through the crusted, dirty glass, then blinked. 

"Well, that's odd," he murmured, raising an eyebrow in surprise. 

* * * * * * 

No one was speaking in the Hospital Wing. With each passing minute that Harry did not awaken, the mood grew more and more tense. Madame Pomfrey remained still where she had fallen, Narcissa's spell powerful enough to knock down an elephant for at least twenty-four hours, or so Narcissa claimed when Severus had asked her earlier. He sat by her side, watching her watch Harry, hoping that he would open his eyes soon and tell her where her son was being kept. 

"God dammit!" Lucius suddenly shouted, banging his fist into the wall by the door. Narcissa and Severus exchanged a glance, the Potions Master rising from his chair to stand by his friend. He rested what he hoped was a comforting hand on the older man's shoulder. 

"He's okay," Severus assured him. Lucius turned to look at his friend, blue eyes glittering with worry, frustration, and anger. 

"What if he's not?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly with repressed emotion. He looked down, his turning knuckles white as he clutched his wand. "This... all of this is my fault." 

"No one is to blame," Severus insisted, ignoring the twinge of guilt that wrapped itself around his heart. 

"I am," Lucius snapped. "I'm a selfish fool." He looked over at his wife, who was watching him with concern. "I should have let you go," he told her. "I should have let you take our son and disappear." 

"And never see you again?" Narcissa returned, silver eyes flashing in anger. "It was my choice to marry you, my choice to raise our child with you, my choice to stay - with you, Lucius!" 

Severus watched warily as the old argument between them started to escalate. He was never sure if he should intervene. His usual role in this was to gather Draco in his arms and take him out of the room until they were each done blaming themselves for the situation they were trapped in. He looked between the two, clutching his fists at his sides as they continued sniping at one another, debating with himself about what to do. 

As it turned out, he didn't have to do anything. At that moment, somebody in the hallway started pushing on the magically sealed door. The two worried parents stopped arguing, Lucius raising his wand, ready to battle any intruder, Narcissa rising from her chair and doing the same. The three of them took a collective deep breath and prepared for the worst. 

* * * * * * 

"What the hell?" 

Snuffles whined as Remus continued to pound on the door, pushing on the handle with all of his strength - quite a bit of strength, given his heritage. He stepped back with a frown, pulling out his wand and muttering a spell under his breath. The door took on a bright, yellow glow. Remus felt a rush of air at his side and, suddenly, Sirius was there. 

"It's locked," Sirius stated. Remus looked aghast. 

"What are you doing?" Remus hissed, darting glancing looks around the hallway. "Someone could see you!" 

"Everyone's in the Great Hall," Sirius replied distractedly, running his hands along the door. "Why would the nurse lock this?" 

"You _hope_ everyone is in the Great Hall," Remus went on, glaring at the taller man. Sirius looked up, met Remus' angry eyes, and shrank back. He widened his eyes a bit and... oh, for Merlin's sake, he was pouting! Remus gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Do NOT give me the puppy-dog face," he warned. Sirius persisted. Remus threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, for the love of... Let's just get this door open!" 

"You're the one with the wand," Sirius reminded him. Remus shot him a look. 

"And don't you forget it," he replied with a small smirk. Sirius groaned. 

* * * * * * 

"What are they doing out there?" Severus asked as the sound of yet another bang came through the door. The three of them had long since dropped their defensive stances, looking at the door with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. 

"This is ridiculous," Lucius said with a sigh. He looked over at his wife. "Can you see who it is?" She nodded. 

"Give me a moment," she said, covering her eyes with her hands. "_Voyez par la porte_," she whispered, then pulled her hands away, her eyes glowing a bright white. "The werewolf," she told them, "and the Animagus." 

Lucius frowned at the door as yet another bang reverberated throughout the room. "How powerful of a locking charm did you use?" he asked his wife. She merely raised an eyebrow in response. 

"Should we do something?" Severus asked, looking at the door with concern. "They've been at it for about five minutes already. With that kind of noise, they're sure to attract somebody competent." 

"Perhaps you're right," Lucius agreed, thoughtfully rubbing a hand along his chin. 

"I think I have an idea." The two men turned to see Narcissa smiling, a small, wicked smile, and even through the spell, they could see a knowing look in her glowing eyes. 

* * * * * * 

Remus dropped his wand to his side, glaring at the door. "This isn't working," he declared. 

"Obviously," Sirius said dryly. 

"Well, if you've got a better idea..." 

"As a matter of fact, I do." Sirius took a few steps back, rolling up his sleeves. Remus sighed and followed suit. "Ready?" he asked. 

Remus sighed again. "Ready." 

"Okay," Sirius said, taking a deep breath. "On the count of three. One... Two..." 

* * * * * * 

Narcissa held her wand aloft, eyes still glowing from the spell, and waited patiently. 

"'Cissa?" Lucius asked. "What are you..." 

"Move away from the door, you two," she instructed them and they quickly did as they were told. Without warning, Narcissa waved her wand and uttered a few ancient words, the locking charm on the door dissipating in an instant. 

"THREE!" The door flew open, followed by two equal shouts of surprise as Remus and Sirius tumbled into the Hospital Wing, tripping on top of one another in a disorganized heap. Severus looked down at them and shook his head. 

"Idiots," he announced. Lucius closed and re-locked the door. 

"Ow," Remus muttered around a mouth-full of Sirius' hair. "Will you get off of me?" 

"Right," Sirius agreed, dragging himself to his feet, Remus following suit. They both looked a little red-faced and discombobulated. After a moment, they remembered why they were there. 

"What are you three doing to Harry?" Sirius cried, seeing his godson's still form on the bed. 

"He's sleeping," Narcissa informed them, blinking her eyes to remove the spell on them. 

"Or you did something to him!" Sirius shouted, taking a step forward. Narcissa moved in front of the bed, blocking Harry from view, wand still raised. 

The wolf in Remus shuddered. He grabbed Sirius' arm, preventing him from going forward. "Stop," he hissed. "It's not safe!" 

"Harry is fine," Severus told them, "and he volunteered to help us locate Draco. You'll leave him be." 

As nervous as the look on Narcissa's face was making the two former Gryffindors, Severus was something they knew how to handle. "You probably talked him into it!" Sirius growled, jerking his arm out of Remus' grip, advancing on the Potions Master. "The Headmaster said..." 

"The Headmaster is a fool," Lucius interjected. "Harry wanted to help, so we let him." 

"Don't you dare talk about Dumbledore that way!" Sirius shouted, raising his fists. "He only..." 

"Poughkeepsie!" 

All arguments stopped and everyone turned around to see Harry sitting up on the bed, rubbing his forehead, eyes very wide and green without his glasses on. He looked at the gathered adults, who were looking at him with a combination of bafflement and concern. Narcissa lowered her arm and put a gentle hand on his own. 

"What was that?" she asked him. 

"Poughkeepsie!" Harry repeated earnestly. "Draco's in Poughkeepsie!" 

"Poughkeepsie?" Remus echoed, furrowing his eyebrows. 

"Where the hell is Poughkeepsie?" Lucius asked, also confused. 

"New York," Harry replied. "Poughkeepsie, New York. They have him in some kind of basement or cellar. He was able to figure out where he was by looking out a window. There's a billboard down the road that says something like, 'Welcome to Historic Poughkeepsie' and there are New York license plates on all the cars." 

"Is he alright?" Narcissa asked. 

"Yes," Harry said, nodding his head, then squeezed his eyes shut. "No, yes, I don't know! He's injured and in a lot of pain, but he's thinking more clearly. He kept going on about a floating bookcase or something. He seemed to be really excited about it. He said he thinks his leg is broken, but he wouldn't tell me much more than that. It's hard to tell, because he projects himself differently in his mind. He said he didn't know who took him and that they didn't come back while he was looking around. Oh, and he said he couldn't find the ward or something." 

Narcissa nodded. "Thank you, Harry," she said sincerely. "Lay back and rest now." 

"But I want to find him!" Harry cried, even as Narcissa pushed him down. She smiled. 

"You've already helped a great deal," she replied. "Now, let us handle the rest." 

Harry sighed, but nodded, feeling exhausted. He looked across the room and blinked. "Sirius!" he said, smiling weakly at his godfather. "You're not a dog!" 

"No," Sirius agreed, quickly crossing the room, Remus on his heels, the two hovering over the boy. "No, I'm not." He have Harry a big hug. Narcissa stepped away as the two men enjoyed their little family reunion, going over to stand by her husband and friend. 

"I'm going to get him," Narcissa informed them. Lucius shook his head. 

"Not alone," he said. "It's too dangerous. I'm going with you." 

"No, you're not," she told him. "You can't afford to allow yourself to be put into a situation where you could compromise your relationships with either the Ministry or the Death Eaters. How else will Severus get the information that he needs to pass along concerning the activities of Voldemort's minions? We still don't know if it was Aurors or Death Eaters who took our son." She narrowed her eyes. "Either way, you cannot be involved." 

"And you can be?" Severus asked. "Everyone knows who you are, Narcissa. There's no great leap in logic required to tie the two of you together." 

She gave them both a mild look. "You're assuming," she began slowly, "that anyone I happen to run across who is involved with my son's kidnapping will survive long enough to report it was me." 

Severus and Lucius exchanged a long look. Finally, the older man sighed and nodded. "Just be careful?" he asked, stepping forward and giving her a hug. She returned it gladly, pressing her cheek against her husband's, placing a small kiss near his ear. 

"I will be," she promised, stepping back. She gave a quick hug to Severus, then nodded once more to them both, closing her eyes and vanishing without a sound. Across the room, Harry gasped. 

"How did she do that?" he asked, Lucius and Severus looking over to meet the astonished looks on the other three's faces. "You can't apparate inside the Hogwarts' grounds! It's impossible!" 

"Narcissa has all sorts of hidden talents," Lucius replied cryptically, going to sit down in a chair across the room from Harry's bed. "It's best not to question them." 

Harry opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again, frowning. "Can she save Draco?" he asked quietly. 

Lucius smiled. "She may be the only one who can," he replied. 

The Hospital Wing fell silent. 

Until a few minutes later, at which point Remus asked, "Oh, is Madame Pomfrey alright?" 

The nurse slept on. 

To be continued... 

A/N:Ta da! One more chapter out of the way! It looks like we've only got one chapter left and an epilogue! Sounds good, eh? So... What's up with Draco's mother, besides the fact that she's really cool? Will Madame Pomfrey ever wake up? WHO kidnapped Draco? Is Dumbledore possessed by the "I'm a bastard! Ask me how!" virus? Why does DangerMouse make Sirius and Remus act like they came out of a Three Stooges film? Just how close is Severus to the Malfoy family? Find out in the next chapter of.... "Breaking Destiny!" Once again, thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the fic!   
Don't forget to sign up for my new update list!  
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dangerfics/join  
I won't be posting to ff.net after "Breaking Destiny" finishes! Also, my other fanfiction can be found at:  
http://users3.ev1.net/~scaliff42/purplefic  
Cheers, everybody! I hope to hear from you! 


	13. Chapter Twelve

Hey, check it out. The rating has gone up. Be aware - we're looking at violence, strong language, adult content....

A/N: Hello everbody! ("Hi, Dr. Nick!") Finally got this chapter done! Stupid school - it takes up way too much time. A big thank you goes to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: MiniMe, Chisama3, Fanny chan, Draco Dormiens, Alex Destine, WildfireFriendship, chrisseee667, Fate's Child, SoulSister, EbonyKitsune, mistykasumi, Slashybubble, melodie, DragonMage, Jo, Draco Malfoy-N-Harry Potter, EbonyKitsune, mayc1234, Kelly, devious slytherin, Carmilla de Lestace, smitha-r, M-chan, thebrunetteditz, Cosmic, bluey-bluefalls, and SparkySparkles! Wow! That makes 121 reviews! I'm blushing over here!   
There's some rather nasty bits in this chapter - just a warning. I think I had a little too much fun with the torture scenes. *shrugs* Oh, well. Have fun! Hope to hear from you! Don't lynch me! 

  


Breaking Destiny

_By: DangerMouse_

Chapter XII

Blaise stood up. He paced back and forth. He sat down. He stood up again, then paced some more. He sat back down, crossing his legs on the sleeping bag. He crossed them other way. He stood up. 

"Zabini..." growled seventh-year Bane Relesky, glaring at the younger boy. "If you don't cut that out, I'm going to break both your legs just to keep you still!" 

"Fuck you," Blaise snapped, resuming his pacing. Draco was missing. He could feel it. He never came to dinner and, now, the whole school was in lock-down. It couldn't have been just because of Potter's little episode. For one thing, Professor Snape didn't return with the rest of the teachers. He chewed his bottom lip, trying to ignore the panic gripping around his heart. He sat down again, reaching up a hand to tug on his short, dark hair. Draco was his best friend! Maybe one of his only real friends! This couldn't be happening - he didn't need this kind of stress. 

"Dammit," he muttered, sinking back down against his sleeping bag. 

"Worried about your little boyfriend?" Bane asked, snickering. 

"He's not my boyfriend," Blaise replied, sitting up and glaring at the older boy. "Shut up." 

"He probably got what was coming to him," Bane went on. "He's no doubt lying dead in a ditch some place, right where he belongs." 

"I said, 'Shut up!'" Blaise yelled, balling up his fists. A sharp glance from Professor Vector stilled his attempt at rearranging the Bane's face. Instead, he let out a huffy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest and ignoring Bane's continued chuckling. Blaise looked away from his fellow Slytherins, sick with the sight of them. 

He felt himself regretting not going with the others. His family wasn't affiliated with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, not having anything in particular they wanted. Besides, his mother's brother was a squib - an architect of some kind - and his great-grandmother on his father's side had been a muggle. This was common knowledge in Wizard High Society, so the Zabini's were never really been able to get choice positions in the Ministry, nor were they ever invited to upper-class social functions. Their nouveau riche status didn't help much - his grandfather made their fortune marketing some kind of invention to the muggles - microwave ovens, he thought they were called. Blaise didn't know what they did, but he knew that almost every muggle in the world had one, his family getting approximately six sickles for every sale. 

Still, without his friends here, Blaise felt oddly isolated. Slytherins were an enigma - they often banded together and made tight friendships because the other Houses refused to associate with them. At the same time, old family rivalries and the constant need to out-plan, out-scheme, and one-up one another left them fragmented within their own House. At last count, he and Draco guessed six separate factions existed in the Slytherin House, each one at quiet war with the other five. 

It made for interesting times, but only if you had the support of your group. 

Right now, four of the six factions were gone, scattered to the four winds. Before the carrying out of The Plan and seeing the exciting aftermath, Blaise had possessed only vague notions of why Draco had grown so quiet in the course of recent months. Truth be told, even after the fact, he'd never felt certain that Draco played a role in it at all. Slytherins were nothing if not tight lipped. He had his suspicions, though. Now, the only two factions left in the House turned out to be the two that hated him the most. He knew he could have gone with the others, but didn't, because Draco couldn't leave and he didn't want his friend to be alone. 

"Sweet irony," Blaise said under his breath, running his gaze across the room. He frowned, noticing a very upset looking Hermione Granger. Sure, he expected her to be worried about Potter, but if he was reading her expression right, she actually looked... guilty. To top it all off, the Weasel looked rather angry. Blaise raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking inside him, thankfully replacing some of the worried dread. He started to rise to his feet, intent on going over to interrogate the two Gryffindors, when the Headmaster stormed into the room, drawing every one's attention with his unusually stiff posture and dark expression. 

"Students," he said, voice carrying easily through the silent hall, "you will remain here for the rest of the evening. An incident has occurred that I will not elaborate on at this time. Rest assured that you are safe here and will remain thus. We have the situation completely under control. Mr. Potter is in good hands in the Hospital Wing and is in no danger of suffering any further ill effects related to this incident. I am leaving you under Professor McGonagall's direction for the remainder of the evening. Thank you." That said, he turned and walked right back out of the Great Hall. The moment his departure took effect, the hall filled with the urgent whispering of wild speculation. 

Blaise glared in the direction of the vanished Headmaster, certain beyond a doubt that the situation was far from under control. 

He'd thought lying was strictly a Slytherin trait these days. 

* * * * * * 

The clock on the wall ticked loudly with every passing second, the even tempo sounding clearly though the large, cavernous room. Other sounds occasionally punctuated the near-silence - coughs, the soft swish of robes against the stone floor as someone shifted their weight uneasily, sniffles, as well as the random finger snap. Remus cleared his throat. 

"So..." he began, his voice cutting through the room. He let his eyes drift across the faces of the other three adults, Lucius retaining his position near the door, lost in thought, while Severus stood next to the older man, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of irritation. Sirius remained near Harry, watching his godson with concern. Harry was awake, but seemingly lost in his own little world. "So..." Remus repeated, running a hand down Sirius' arm, feeling the animagus intertwine their fingers together. "Nice weather we're having, eh?" 

Silence met his question and Remus stifled a sigh. Years of loneliness after the loss of his friends and his mate's stint in prison should have made him more accustomed to the quiet of his own thoughts. Instead, he found himself craving conversation that much more. Quiet made his head hurt and his heart nervous. He looked over at Lucius. 

"Read any good books lately?" he tried again. The older man glared at him. 

"I have no desire to engage in inane chit-chat at the moment," he stated firmly, his wand clutched tightly in his hand. 

"Oh, me neither," Remus said with a wave of his hand, "but I'll take inane chit-chat over oppressive silence any day." 

"And that is one of many ways in which we differ," Lucius snapped. "Your entire family is not at stake at the moment." 

"No, I suppose not," Remus conceded. "Your wife... she's something else, isn't she?" 

Lucius sniffed. "To put it mildly, yes." 

"Will she be able to rescue your son on her own?" Remus asked. Lucius nodded. 

"She's powerful," he replied, "especially when our family is threatened." 

"How powerful?" Sirius asked, raising his head to look at the man. Lucius narrowed his eyes at the former Gryffindors. 

"Powerful enough," he said, his tone of voice clearly ending the conversation. 

Remus sighed as the room fell back into an uncomfortable silence. He wondered if he should try to spark a conversation with Severus, when Harry let out a low moan. All four adults moved quickly around Harry's bed as the boy scrunched up his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest, biting furiously at his bottom lip. 

"No..." the boy hissed, grabbing at the sheets, tossing his head. "No, no, no, no..." 

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked, reaching out a hand to touch Harry's shoulder. The boy flinched away, letting out a small shout. 

"My son," Lucius said softly, eyes wide. "What are they doing to my son?" 

* * * * * * 

Moving the bookcase back to its original position proved to be the straw the broke the camel's back as far as Draco's new abilities were concerned. He lay very still on the ground, convinced a large demon of some kind was repeatedly pounding on the inside of his skull, right between his eyes. Sleep, once such a good option, was out of the question. The pain in his body wouldn't allow it. 

He'd just been thinking how nice it was that his captors had left him alone for so long when the door at the top of the stairs swung open, then closed again. 

"Damn Murphy," Draco mumbled and turned his head so he could see, squinting in the darkness at the figure approaching him. 

"Ah, good. You're awake." The voice was even timbered and smooth, the man speaking as though he was discussing the weather. "I'd hoped the others hadn't roughed you up so badly I would have to use charms to bring you back to consciousness. That's such a bother." 

The man was tall, dressed in all black, a doctor's bag clutched in his hand as he walked down the stairs, each step deliberate and slow. He set the bag on the floor near the base of the stairs, then continued his leisurely movement across the room to where Draco lay still. He squashed the urge to scuttle backwards away from this person, knowing it would serve no purpose other than to amuse his captor. The man looked down at Draco, smiling wanly at him. 

"How pretty you are," he said, voice soft and melodic. "Such a pretty boy. Tell me, lovely, do you know who I am?" 

Draco didn't answer. He didn't recognize the man, but didn't want to say so, didn't want to speak to him at all. Fear gripped him at the way he was looking at him, the man's eyes dull, revealing nothing. The man smiled again. 

"A quiet one, hmmm?" he asked. "We will change that, beauty. We'll hear from you soon enough." He crouched down next to Draco, taking his chin in his hand. "You're very fortunate, you know," the man told him. "Those who hired me wanted only the best for you. I am the very best. I can teach you so much, give you so much. I will make you feel the very essence of life itself. Do you know what life is?" 

Draco stared at the stranger, unable to move away from his piercing stare. He blinked rapidly, trying to break the look, but it was no good. The hand on his chin tightened its grip. 

"Life is pain, lovely," the man said after a long moment. "One painful stretch after another. I understand pain. I know how to give it and how to take it away. You'll come to need it, in time, need to feel the agony sweeping through you, just to function. I'll be your teacher, child. I'll teach you what life really means." The man stood up suddenly, pushing Draco's head back in the process, cracking it against the hard, stone floor. Draco held in a hiss, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Where are the missing students?" the man asked, his voice suddenly authoritative. Draco blinked in surprise at the question, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Fear gripped him and he forced himself up and back, away from the man. The man raised an eyebrow, then drew out his wand. 

"_Crucio_." His tone sounded almost bored as the lancing pain shot through Draco's body. He felt himself contorting spastically and his brain went into a state of shock, unable to handle all the sensations hitting it at once. Draco ground his teeth together, forbidding himself to scream at all costs. After an eternity, the curse ended and Draco lay shaking on the floor. "Well?" asked the man. 

Draco jerked about uncontrollably, his eyes dancing with dots of light. "G-go t-to hell!" he choked out, twisting himself away from the man. He laughed. 

"So, he does speak." The man walked over to him, resting a foot on his side. He looked down at Draco's bruised ribs and frowned. "Sloppy, that," he said mournfully. "It looks as though somebody was just hitting you with their fists, with no regard to how a body should be treated." He leaned down, pressing his hand into Draco's side. The young Slytherin balled his hands into fists to keep from crying out. It hurt a thousand times worse that it had just moments before. The man sighed and shook his head, the stood back up. 

"Now, let's try this again," the man said, his voice menacing in its pleasantness. "Where are the missing students?" 

"Fuck you," Draco gasped. The man chuckled and pointed his wand at the boy. 

"_Crucio_." Draco managed once again not to scream, strictly through strength of will alone, then lay panting on the floor, a roaring sound in his ears. 

"I've never much cared for the Crutacious curse as an exclusive use of torture," the man continued as if nothing had happened. He kneeled down by Draco's body, picking up his left hand, almost caressing it. "It's too clean. What's the fun in ripping screams from your body when I don't get to hear the cracking of bones or smell the scent of your blood as it drips from your veins?" He stroked Draco's fingers with his own, the boy trembling next to him. "Now then, one nice effect it does have is a to create a hyper-sensitivity to the sensation of pain. Would you like me to show you?" 

"N-not really..." Draco muttered, his jaw shaking with each movement. 

"Hmm... no desire to learn new things," the man said gently, shaking his head. "That's the problem with your generation. Consider this a favor then." He looked curiously at Draco's hand. "Now, which one?" he mused, running a thumb along Draco's fingers. "They're all so lovely. Ah, well." He touched each finger in turn with the words he spoke next. "Eenie, meenie, mineie... moe." The man grabbed Draco's ring finger and twisted it, snapping it back at an unnatural angle. Draco bit back a cry, his top teeth breaking through the thin skin of his lip, a trickle of blood pouring into his mouth. He let out a low moan, closing his eyes. 

"No, no, no..." the man whispered, dropping Draco's broken hand back on the ground, reaching down to stroke Draco's tear-stained cheeks. "No whimpering," he told him kindly. "It's so unsatisfying. Let me hear you, child. Let me hear you scream." 

"N-never," Draco said brokenly. "Never." 

"Never say never, baby," the man said. He sighed and sat back on his heals, looking Draco critically up and down. "It's so rare I get a chance to work on one so young. I want to do this right - make it memorable." He stood up, walking over to the nondescript black bag he'd brought with him, carrying it back over to Draco, setting it on the floor next to him and kneeling once more. He opened the case with a snap, calmly rifling through its contents, making occasional disapproving noises. "No good," he said softly, pushing something out of the way. "Too soon for that. Hmm... we'll use this later, I think. What would be best... ah!" He pulled out a sharp, wicked looking dagger, the hilt dotted in silver skulls. The man reached out a hand, running a finger along Draco's broken lip. It came away red with blood. 

"Beautiful," he said, rubbing the blood between his fingers. "It's such a lovely color. I don't know why you Slytherins prefer green. Perhaps I can make a convert out of you yet." He stared down at Draco's body as an artist might look at a canvas, his eyes hungry. Draco felt himself breathing faster as the blade was traced along the curve of his neck, the moved down, the point pressing against his chest, just above his heart. 

"Shhh..." he hissed as Draco started to move, trying to squirm away. The man's other hand came down Draco's chest, holding him still. "I won't kill you, don't worry," he told him. "That's not my job. Not my job at all. Now, just hush... nothing but screams child, nothing but screams." 

The knife slid into the skin on his abdomen, agonizingly slow. Draco cried out softly, trying to move away, but in his weakened state, the hand holding him still was enough to prevent it. The blade burned, the metal ice-cold as it went deeper into his body, the man moving the weapon gently back and forth as he eased it in. "Don't want to hit anything vital," Draco dimly heard the man say through his pain-hazed mind. "You should pay attention." He leaned over Draco and all the young Slytherin could see was a pair black, soulless eyes, his own glassy-eyed stare reflecting back at him. The blade was swiftly removed and Draco cried out again, louder than before. The man nodded sagely. 

"Good," he murmured. "Very good. A little louder next time, I think." The blood from the wound welled-up out of his body, not enough to make him bleed to death, but still enough to coat his skin. The man ran his fingers through the blood, raising his now bright-red hand for Draco's inspection. "Isn't that just lovely?" he asked, voice tinged with pride and awe. "Red is such an amazing color - it invokes so many emotions and feelings." He leaned over Draco, once more running his blood-soaked hand along his face. "Why don't you tell me what you're feeling now?" 

Draco blinked his eyes several times, determined not to show any weakness to this man if he could prevent it. "Hate," he hissed, surprised at how well the word came out. The man smiled. 

"Hate, love, passion, anger... it's all the same," the man said. "It's all red, like our life force. So very red." 

"You're s-sick," Draco ground out. The man shrugged. 

"Perhaps I am the only one that is well," he suggested, wiping the blood off his hand and into Draco's hair. "I can do this for days, you know." He placed the blade back on Draco's chest, tip pointed straight at his throat. "I can cut you until all of your skin is stained red, the little slices through your body pouring out this the most beautiful of dyes. I can burn you, freeze you, break you, beat you, just for starters. There are so many kinds of torture available - it's really an under-appreciated art." 

"P-poor you," Draco said, gritting his teeth. 

"It's good that you understand," the man said mildly. "It will make all of our time together that much more enjoyable. So many ways I can hurt you... which would do the most damage, I wonder?" 

Draco swallowed hard, fearful of what was next. The blade vanished back into the bag, but there was no sense of relief. Instead of pulling out another weapon, the man raised himself up, then straddled Draco's hips, sending an all-new sensation of fear and panic running through him. The man brushed Draco's hair away from his neck, fanning it out to the sides. "A halo," he said quietly, "just like an angel." He grabbed each of Draco's wrists in one hand, pulling his arms above his head. 

"N-no!" Draco cried out, struggling to get out from under the weight pinning him down. "No! Please, don't..." The man laughed. 

"Oh, we're not ready for that sort of torture, yet," he said, sounding genuinely amused. He reached over into the bag, pulling out what looked like a sharpened metal spike and a wooden board. "We'll get there soon enough." He slid the board under Draco's hands, putting them together, one on top of the other, palm to back, palms facing up. The spike flashed in the air as the man brought it down, driving it through both of Draco's hands and into the board. 

Draco screamed. 

"Perfect," the man said cheerfully. 

* * * * * * 

Slytherins are, as a general rule, considered a sneaky bunch. 

There is certain reputation of mystery and subterfuge one should aspire to maintain once one is sorted into the House of the Snake. It's all part of the mystique - the cloak and dagger antics that make up their daily lives. Nothing is straightforward, nothing is what it seems. A truth is always a half-truth, wrapped in a lie, and served on a platinum platter. A Slytherin never does exactly what they say they will and a Slytherin never says exactly what they mean to say. Blaise knew this of course. 

He just didn't care at the moment. 

Stepping over a surprised looking Ravenclaw second year, he continued his beeline straight across the Great Hall, right over to where the Gryffindors were huddled together, all worried about their housemate. Their whispered conversations fell silent at his approach, eyes turning to him with hateful glares, the odd, rude hand-gesture popping up here and there. He ignored it all in favor of glancing at one, specific bushy-haired prefect, who actually looked a little afraid of him. He almost smirked, but kept it in check. 

Before any of the Gryffindors could come out with one of their cliches in a can for all occasions (such as, "What do you want?" or "You gotta problem, snake?"), he raised his hand and crooked a finger at Granger, indicating she should go with him over to a more empty space in the hall. 

She rose to her feet and followed without a word. 

Certain they were out of hearing range of the majority of the student body, Blaise looked fiercely at her, his expression stormy. "What's going on?" he asked simply, without preamble. 

"I don't know what your talking about," she replied evasively. Blaise rolled his eyes. 

"Granger, I'm a Slytherin," he said with a sigh. "I can see a lie coming ten miles away. Be honest with me." 

Hermione pursed her lips. "Malfoy was attacked," she answered finally. The knot in Blaise's stomach tightened. 

"Is he dead?" 

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "Nobody knows. Last I heard, they couldn't find him." 

"I see..." Blaise said, trying to keep his voice steady and controlled. A vision of Draco lying dead somewhere, all alone, hovered at the forefront of his mind. A lump settled in his throat and he took a deep breath. "What does this have to do with Potter?" 

"I'm not at liberty to say," Hermione replied. Blaise looked critically at her, then decided not to push and nodded. 

"I understand." He closed his eyes briefly, then looked back at the Prefect. "Thank you for telling me." 

There was nothing left to say. Hermione turned and walked back to her friends and Blaise went back to his sleeping bag. The other Slytherins were shooting angry glares in his direction, but Blaise ignored them, lying back and closing his eyes. 

* * * * * * 

Harry thrashed on the bed, his mouth opening with silent screams, twisting and pulling away from the hands that tried to restrain him. Sirius was shouting his name, trying to get Harry's attention, but it was of no use. Lucius and Severus made a buffer on the other side of the bed, to prevent Harry from rolling off. Remus shook his head, then looked behind himself at the still-unconscious nurse. Without hesitation, he left Harry's side, pulling out his wand, pointing it down towards the sleeping Madame Pomfrey. 

"_Ennervate_!" shouted the werewolf, a bright, white light shooting from his wand and striking the nurse. Nothing happened. "I'm not having good luck with spells tonight," Remus muttered, frowning. He looked over at Lucius. "How strong of a spell did your wife use?" he demanded. 

Lucius looked down at the fallen Madame Pomfrey and sighed, tugging on Severus' sleeve. "We'll cast the spell, all three of us together," Lucius told him, drawing out his wand. Severus followed suit, Sirius half-watching them from Harry's bedside, trying to keep the distressed boy from hurting himself. The three men circled the nurse, wands pointed down, and, at Lucius' nod, cast the spell simultaneously. 

"_ENNERVATE_!" 

The effect was instantaneous. Madame Pomfrey shot awake, sitting up in a flash, eyes wide in shock. She blinked at the three men, raising a hand to touch the goose egg on the side of her head from when she'd hit the floor. She glared at Lucius. "Your wife cursed me!" she spat, furious. 

"No time for that now," Remus told her, reaching down to help her rise to her feet. "Harry's in some kind of distress. You need to help him." Madame Pomfrey stood shakily on her feet, then looked over at Harry, her face going white, her eyes wide. 

"Him!" she shrieked, pointing at Sirius. "Black! Here!" 

Sirius shrank back, ducking his head, shaggy hair falling in his eyes. "Oops," he said sheepishly, glancing at Remus. 

"Yes, yes, Black, here," Remus said quickly, pushing the nurse over towards Harry and his Godfather. "Don't worry about that. Let's just tend to Harry, okay?" 

Madame Pomfrey gave the convicted murderer a dark glance before turning her attention to Harry, who continued to spasm in obvious pain, the source of which could not be determined. She held his hand, murmuring a few spells under her breath, feeling his pulse, checking his temperature, a performing other such tasks associated with healing the sick. Finally, she looked up, glaring at the four men, Lucius and Severus in particular. "I told you he wasn't to sleep!" she snapped. "We knew it could have disastrous effects!" 

"But he wasn't asleep," Sirius interjected, barely keeping from shrinking back at the look the nurse shot at him. "Well, he was," he amended, "but he woke up again. He was still awake, when this attack started." 

Madame Pomfrey scowled. "The connection between the two of them must be deeper than we first thought," she said. Lucius closed his eyes. 

"So someone is really torturing my son as we speak." 

The nurse glanced at him, reaching a hand out to rest on his arm, then sighed, having nothing to say. She looked over at Remus. "What's happened since I've been asleep?" She ran her eyes around the room. "Where's Lady Malfoy?" 

"She went to go find Draco," Remus explained. "Harry was able to talk to him and he could tell us where he was being kept." 

"She went there alone?" Madame Pomfrey asked, incredulous. 

"She'll be fine," Lucius said shortly. "She just needs to get there in time." 

All five of them glanced down as Harry let out a sharp cry, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands gripping into the sheets. Sirius laid a hand on his head, pushing the hair out of his face. Severus bit his lip and shook his head. 

"She better hurry," he said softly. No one replied, but everyone agreed. 

* * * * * * 

Trolls are dumb. 

It's an undeniable fact. Trolls are truly, magnificently stupid. They are, however, very, very stubborn. When given a task, they will do that task, unyielding and without fail, until they are given a different task or they die. The task needs to be simple, though. For example, a good task to give a troll might be, "Smash this building," or "Stomp on this person," or, perhaps the best task of all, "Guard that door." 

Skrietrag had that final task. "Guard that door." That was what he was told to do and that was what he was doing. Actually, the full instructions he'd been given had been, "Guard that door and kill anyone who wants to walk through it and isn't me or my ilk," but Skrietrag, in his limited troll-logic, knew that was simply an understood addendum. Not in so many words, of course, but he still understood what he was supposed to do. 

"Guard that door." 

He'd done a good job so far. No one had gone through the door that wasn't supposed to. In fact, no one who wasn't supposed to go through the door had even attempted it yet, so to be fully honest, Skrietrag was feeling a bit putout. Trolls, in addition to being completely dim, were also unarguably violent creatures, most content when they were busy smashing the non-troll things that ran around. Actually, smashing troll-things was fun, too, although they occasionally smashed back. But smashing things and getting smashed by things - well, that was a regular troll holiday. 

Skrietrag really wanted to smash someone or something. 

So, when the female-human-thing suddenly appeared out of thin air right in front of him, his rather large troll heart started to beat faster with the anticipation of smashing. He grinned in the unique way that only trolls can grin, raising his hammer, looking forward to the squish-crunch sound non-troll human-things made when smashed. He raised the mighty weapon high, preparing to bring it down, until the funny feeling that something was wrong halted his movement. 

Human-things usually made high-pitched screeching noises right before they went squish-crunch. This human-thing did not. In fact, this human-thing was looking at Skrietrag with an expression that was making the troll's stomach feel bad and fluttery, like when he'd eaten too many of the human-things he'd squish-crunched at a village one time. The hammer faltered in the air and fell at his side. Skrietrag squinted at the human-thing, then sniffed. 

The hammer fell to the ground and Skrietrag stepped back. This was not a human-thing that would go squish-crunch if he smashed it. This was a not-human-thing that would be squish-crunching him if he tried to smash it. The not-human-thing stared at him for a moment more, then calmly walked past him and through the door. 

Trolls are dumb. 

But they're not _that_ dumb. 

Skrietrag picked up his hammer and forgot about guarding the door, fleeing into the night. 

* * * * * * 

It felt like he was floating in a haze - a haze of pure pain and agony. Draco stared up at the ceiling, his eyes glassy and unseeing, body limp against the cold ground he couldn't feel. He felt nothing, yet everything, could feel every injury - every purpling bruise, every bleeding cut, every inch of crisping skin, burned just minutes ago, the pieces of broken bone in his body, scraping against other pieces, hearing the grinding in his ears. His chest burned with every shaky breath, skin prickling as though a million needles surrounded him on all sides while his jaw ached with agony from clenching his teeth so often. His mouth still tasted like blood, coming from his torn bottom lip or from somewhere inside, he couldn't tell. There was nothing else - nothing but the pain. 

"Little one?" asked the man in a sing-song voice, sitting on the floor next to him. "Oh, little one? Are you still there? Can you hear me?" If Draco could hear him, he didn't reply. The dark man frowned, clutching Draco's broken hand in his fist. The boy didn't even flinch. The man frowned again, then picked up his wand. 

"_Ennervate_!" he shouted. Draco jerked, his eyes blinking rapidly as the real world broke through and added to the pain. He whined and squirmed, trying to get away - although from what was uncertain. His body shouted back at him in protest, his naked skin stuck to the floor in a pool of congealing blood. The man let go of Draco's hand, reaching up to run his fingers through the boy's tangled hair. "You stopped screaming for me," the man told him, his voice filled with disappointment. "It was so beautiful and you stopped." His hand drifted down to caress Draco's neck. "I'm sure your throat is torn and rough. Good screams do that. Would you like some water?" 

Draco couldn't answer, couldn't comprehend the questions anymore. Each sound coming out of the man's mouth registered as nothing more than noise, a biting noise that made his head throb with each syllable. Instinct told him to pull away, to get away from this man, but the firm hand clutching his hair and the fiery pain everywhere in his body prevented his escape. He stared at the man above him, everything appearing to be in slow motion. The man smiled. 

"You're understanding, aren't you child?" he asked. "This pain, it's a part of you now. You'll never be able to escape it." The man rose from floor and walked back over to his dreaded bag, pulling out a small bottle of water and a clean sponge. He came back to Draco, kneeling again at his side, dampening the sponge with the water and putting it to Draco's parched lips, crackled with drying blood. The water trickled down his throat, burning across the torn, abused skin and muscle, making him choke. He kept drinking though, something in his body telling him he needed this water, no matter how hard it was to get down. Just when he got used to drinking again, the man took the sponge away, tossing it carelessly across the room where it fell among other forgotten things from the evening - knives, metal skewers, the lighter, a jagged piece of glass - all bloodied. Draco let out a little gasp at the loss of the water, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling them sting with tears that wouldn't fall - he had no tears left at this point. The man chuckled. 

"Now, then," he mused, sitting back again on his heals, "I've cut you, burned you, sliced you, skewered you, beat you... what could we do next?" He scratched his chin, deep in thought. He snapped his fingers. "Of course!" he said happily. "How could I have forgotten chains? Hanging from the ceiling - it's a whole different experience. I think you'll really enjoy it." 

The man stood up and walked away, Draco closing his eyes again. He waited for the feeling of being dragged to his feet, the clinking sound of metal links as they were wrapped around his broken wrists. He found himself anticipating the pain that would come. He could feel his teeth chattering. 

It never did. 

Strange sounds filled the tiny room - shouting and yelling, the boom of curses being cast and deflected, cries of pain and the thump of a body. Draco forced his eyes open, blinking in confusion, his muddled brain not understanding what was happening. Suddenly, a new face appeared in his field of vision, the visage wavering briefly while Draco tried to focus his eyes. The face slowly cleared and Draco gave a small gasp. 

"Mum?" he mouthed, no sound spilling across his cracked lips, his throat too damaged to cooperate. Narcissa smiled warmly at her son, putting her fingers to his temple in a painless touch. 

"Yes, my little dragon," she said, her voice full of caring and love. She leaned down, placing a small kiss on his forehead. "Rest now," she told him. "You're safe." 

Draco closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep. 

* * * * * * 

Someone was whispering, just outside of hearing range. Draco cracked an eye open, then managed to get the other to open as well. The room was dim, but warm and dry, something he was grateful for. He turned his head towards the hushed voices, wincing a little at the pain it caused, and immediately found his gaze drawn to a pair of bright green eyes, hidden behind thick spectacles. Harry gave him a small smile from where he leaned back on the bed next to him, a smile tinted with worry and wariness. 

"Hi," he whispered. Draco started to reply, but Harry held up his hand. "Don't try to talk," he said. "Your throat..." 

Draco nodded slightly, blinking at the other boy. Instead, he took in Harry's haggard appearance and raised an eyebrow. _You look like death_, he thought to him. Harry fixed him with a blank stare. 

"Me?" he replied, still speaking softly. A curtain was pulled up around their beds, blocking them from the view of the others in the room. "What about you?" 

_Haven't looked in a mirror yet_, Draco replied. He held up his tightly bandaged hands and grimaced. _I don't really want to, either._

Harry shook his head. "You're a beautiful sight," he said warmly. Draco could see tears in his eyes. "I thought they might have killed you." 

_Not yet_, Draco thought dryly. Harry chuckled softly and closed his eyes. The curtain was slowly pulled back to reveal several adults. Madame Pomfrey walked over to Draco, setting aside a small ice pack she'd been holding to her head, and started poking at his bandages. 

"It's good you're awake," she told him, her voice kept carefully low. "Don't keep him up," she warned Harry. "He needs his sleep." 

"I won't," the boy promised, also looking exhausted. Madame Pomfrey nodded and stepped aside, Draco's parents and Professor Snape taking her place. She watched a moment as the three adults started talking softly to the grievously injured boy, Severus hovering like a mother hen. It made her smile and she picked up her ice pack again, leaving the family alone for a while. Professor Dumbledore stood silently on the other side of the room, Remus and Sirius at his side. 

"How is he, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked. The nurse shook her head, frowning. 

"He takes forever to heal, Headmaster," she said. "He doesn't respond well to magical restoratives. It took him almost two months to recover from the hippogriff bite he received two years ago." She glanced back at where the injured boy lay and sighed. "I would venture at least a month before he can leave the hospital wing, probably four to six months after that before he's completely healed. It will be a long, slow recovery for him, physically. Mentally... I can't even begin to guess how he's suffered." 

"But at least he will recover," Dumbledore said, looking relieved. "That in it of itself is a wonderful miracle." The three other adults nodded in agreement. 

"Any word on who it was that kidnapped him in the first place?" Sirius asked. Dumbledore shook his head. 

"It's unknown," he replied. "Lucius Malfoy has many enemies. It could have been any of them. From what Lady Malfoy told me, the only person she found with Draco was the man torturing him. He didn't know anything about the people who hired him. Those sorts of people don't ask many questions, if they wish to remain gainfully employed." 

"We should question him," Remus suggested. 

"I do not believe that is an option any longer," Dumbledore said darkly. He looked over to where Narcissa was sitting next to her son, soothingly stroking his face. "I believe the Lady said the man was 'taken care of,' so to speak." 

"Ah." Remus and Sirius looked decidedly uncomfortable. 

"Well, regardless, the boys need their rest," Madame Pomfrey told them. She looked at Sirius and Remus. "You two should head over to the Great Hall." 

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "I think it's safe to return the students to the dorms now. It's almost morning, but I doubt any of them have slept. If you two could tell Professor McGonagall what has happened here, she will make an appropriate announcement to alleviate their fears." 

"And don't forget, Remus," Madame Pomfrey added, "that the full moon is only four days away." 

"I don't forget things like that very often," Remus told her, looking a bit weary. Sirius sighed, then closed his eyes, shuddering into dog form before their very eyes. The nurse glared at the dog. 

"And shame on you for not telling me what was going on," she scolded, shaking her finger at him. Snuffles let out a very pathetic whine and hid between Remus' legs. The werewolf rolled his eyes at his mate's antics. 

"Wimp," he said, reaching down and scratching the spot between his ears. Snuffles thumped his tail on the floor then led the way out of the hospital wing, Remus following close behind. Dumbledore smiled, then started to follow. 

"Where are you off to?" the nurse asked him. The Headmaster turned back and sighed. 

"I have some things to wrap up," he said. "I'm certain I will be getting worried letters from the parents once word of this breaks out. I need to have a response ready. Goodnight, Poppy." 

"Goodnight, Albus," the nurse replied and the Headmaster gave her a quick nod before disappearing out the door. 

* * * * * * 

"Alastor." 

Dumbledore closed the door to his office behind him, giving a small nod to his old friend who was sitting calmly in one of the chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore walked around his desk, taking in seat at his own chair, Fawkes flying off his perch to sit on his master's shoulder. 

"Albus," Moody replied in kind. Both men sighed. 

"Well, this didn't go well," Dumbledore began, his voice kept carefully even. 

"Not especially, no," Moody said with a half-shrug. "It wasn't a total loss, though. We were able to determine that Draco Malfoy does not have intimate knowledge into his father's activities at this time. Perhaps in a few years... Should we try again?" 

"No, I don't think that's wise," Dumbledore replied, tapping his fingers on his desk. "I don't think we can risk the Lady's wrath again. She's not one to cross." 

Moody sniffed. "Feh. She's a liability. We need to remove her." 

Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head. "Then we would truly be lost," he told his friend. "She's bound by certain rules, a very strict code. Protecting her family is the limit of her abilities and even that can't be stretched too far. Regardless, she's not a force to be reckoned with. No, we'll leave the Malfoy family alone, for now." 

"But the other Slytherins..." 

"Fair game," Dumbledore said with a nod. "Though, we'll have to wait. If we act too soon, we risk tipping our hand. It's best to let things lie for a time. Voldemort is still rather weak and we have Mr. Potter on our side. There's no rush." 

"It's a shame we lost our man," Moody said regretfully. "He was a valuable asset, very good at what he does. He determined very quickly what Mr. Malfoy did and did not know." Moody gave his friend a twisted grin. "We let him have free range after that. I didn't get a chance to look at the boy. How bad is he?" 

"He'll be long recovering," Dumbledore informed him, then frowned at the other man. "I wish you hadn't allowed him to put the boy in such a bad state. While I wanted the information from him, I didn't want him permanently damaged. He could still be of use to us down the road, but only if we garner his trust." 

"If you have such reservations, then maybe next time you could dirty your own hands, for a change," Moody snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"You know that's not possible," Dumbledore returned harshly. "I have a position of authority that I've worked hard to maintain. I can't afford to be implicated in any darker activities, especially if I am to gain the trust of the general public. These things will become necessary once the Voldemort problem is resolved and the Ministry is discredited. My temporary removal thanks to Lord Malfoy's interference with Tom Riddle's diary three years ago nearly put all of my plans in jeopardy. I have just as much reason to be unhappy with the Malfoy family as you do, so I understand your dislike of them. However, I won't have you carrying out personal grudges on my agenda! Understood?" 

"Understood," Moody grumbled. 

Dumbledore nodded sharply. "Good." 

* * * * * * 

A warm breeze blew across Draco's face, the cozy Caribbean sun beating down on his body. He adjusted his sunglasses, shifting on the soft beach chair to get more comfortable. The sound of waves gently lapping onto the sand relaxed him down to his toes. He sighed happily. 

"So, this is Martinique," Harry remarked next to him. Draco pulled his sunglasses down away from his eyes, turning his head to look at the other boy. Harry was similarly stretched out on a beach chair, dressed only in red and gold swimming trunks, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he glanced at the beach. "I understand now why you want to own a villa here." 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Draco replied. Harry turned to him and flashed a smile. 

"More than beautiful," he said, glancing at Draco, "and I'm quite content with the company." Draco felt himself blushing a bit self-consciously, suddenly wishing he was wearing more than his own swim suit in Slytherin colors. 

"We must be dreaming then," Draco said sadly, gazing up at the azure sky. "I look a wreck in the real world. I can't even talk." 

"You'll be well soon enough," Harry replied. Draco looked back at him and smiled. 

"Let's hope," he replied. Harry let out a small sigh. 

"Drake, your parents..." 

"Yes?" 

"They're..." Harry paused, searching around for the right word. "They're... amazing!" 

"Thanks," Draco replied with a grin. 

"Seriously!" Harry said, sitting up. "Your parents are really, well... nice!" 

Draco frowned. "You don't have to sound so surprised." 

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "It's just, the only time I've ever seen your parents, I don't think they were in the best of moods." 

"Were they in public?" Draco asked. 

"Well... yes." 

"Then they weren't," Draco finished. "My mother, especially - she hates crowds, hates loud, gaudy events. We're probably the only family in high society who does not host at least one major celebration every year. Luckily, we're rich enough to get away with it." 

Harry laughed and leaned back down against his chair. "Your mom... she's really something else, isn't she?" 

"To put it mildly," Draco said, glancing up. 

"No, I mean it," Harry said a little more firmly, turning to look directly at Draco. "She's really _something_ else - literally." 

Draco shrugged. "I don't know," he replied. "I never asked." 

"You never asked?" Harry looked incredulous. Draco just shrugged again. 

"Nope." 

"Well, where's she from?" Harry asked. "Did she and you dad meet at Hogwarts?" 

"Oh, no. Not at all," Draco said with a chuckle. "Mom didn't go to Hogwarts. She's not from around here, I don't think. I think her family is from somewhere overseas." 

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" Draco smiled at his friend. 

"A little," he admitted. "But, I know all I'm supposed to know right now. When my mom thinks it's time to tell me the whole truth, she will. I'm patient." 

"That would drive me crazy," Harry said, shaking his head. He sighed, his expression growing more serious. "I'm sorry, by the way," he said softly. 

"For what?" 

"For everything that's happened recently," Harry replied. 

"It's not your fault," Draco told him, confused as to why Harry was apologizing. "I know you're the Boy Wonder and all, but even you can't stop the evils of everyone." 

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "I meant, I'm sorry... about before... being mad at you, not listening to your side of the story and jumping to conclusions. I still don't understand what your role was in everything with your housemates disappearing, but I do understand why you didn't want to tell me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry like that." 

Draco sighed, standing up and crossing the short distance to Harry's lounger, waving him to scoot over, which Harry did, although he looked quite surprised. Draco sat down next to him, stretching out along the lounger. It was a tight fit, the two of them on the same beach chair, but they managed it. Draco casually rolled on his side and put an arm across Harry's chest, looking down at the taller boy and smiling. 

"Harry..." he began slowly. Harry swallowed. 

"Yes?" he squeaked. 

"I think our little spat is the least right now," Draco continued, then leaned down and placed a small kiss right on Harry's lips. "But thank you for the apology." 

"You're welcome," Harry managed, eyes wide. Draco leaned down and kissed him again. It was sweet and warm, a very chaste kiss, little more than a pressing of their lips together, but it felt wonderful. Draco pulled back and Harry let out a little gasp. "This is... sudden," he said, licking his lips. Draco smiled again. 

"I'm just finding that out that being patient isn't all it's cracked up to be, sometimes," Draco replied. "Who knows what will happen in the next few years? I almost died tonight. I don't want to have any regrets." He furrowed his brow, suddenly looking concerned. "Is this okay?" 

Harry blinked. "Hell, yeah!" he said vehemently. "Trust me, this is good!" 

"'Yes,'" Draco corrected. Harry started at him. "Not, 'yeah,'" he explained. Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Ass," he told him and Draco laughed, starting to lean down for another kiss, when, without warning, the world wavered in Draco's vision. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. 

"I believe the Banshee is trying to wake me up to take my medicine," Draco growled. "She has rotten timing." 

"I guess you better go," Harry said regretfully. Draco sighed and nodded, sitting up. 

"Do you think you can hold on to the dream until I get back?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged. 

"I can try," he said, "but don't be surprised if when you come back, we're in a tiny closet under the stairs at my Aunt and Uncle's house." 

"Super," Draco said dryly, then closed his eyes, the fresh sea air replaced by the scent of lemon antiseptic, the sound of the waves replaced by the rustling of the cloth and the clacking of shoes. Draco opened his eyes to see Madame Pomfrey hovering over him, a hand on his shoulder. 

"Sorry to wake you," she said mildly, a small smirk on her face. She glanced over at Harry in the next bed. "You two seemed to be having a nice dream." 

Draco couldn't reply vocally, but he hoped his glare was getting the message across loud and clear. The nurse just smirked a little more, then held a vial filled with a green liquid to his mouth. He drank it down, wincing at the bitter taste. 

"Go back to sleep now," she told him, then bustled off. 

Draco sat back, feeling the potion work its way through his body, numbing some of the pain in his throat. He knew it was to make him feel better, to heal his wounds. Much of the pain had vanished, so he should be happy about it. 

He could only feel dread. 

Lifting his bandaged hands, he clasped them together, biting back a hiss as a fresh wave of pain wracked through his body. The knot in his stomach loosened with the sensation and he gave a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes, continuing the press the damaged appendages together, feeling then agonizing throbbing with every beat of his heart. 

"Life," he whispered hoarsely, before pulling his hands apart and relaxing, heading back to his dream with Harry. 

To be concluded in the Epilogue... 

A/N: Hee. Almost done! Just a little Epilogue to tie up a few of the loose ends. Some of them will remain loose, though, just to tick you guys off. ^_^ Like I said, I think I had too much fun with the torture scenes. It's kind of scary that they came out so well. I don't know what that says about me. Anyway, feedback greatly appreciated! I hope to hear from you!   
Don't forget to sign up for my new update list!  
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/dangerfics/join  
I won't be posting to ff.net after "Breaking Destiny" finishes! Also, my other fanfiction can be found at:  
http://users3.ev1.net/~scaliff42/purplefic  
Cheers, everybody! I hope to hear from you! 


End file.
